THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

MRS.   BEATRICE  L.    SATO AY 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS 


BY 

GEORGE  A.  BIRMINGHAM 

AUTHOR  OF  "SPANISH  GOLD,"  "THE  SEARCH  PARTY" 


HODDER  &  STOUGHTON 

NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1911 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

PR 


HA  JL 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

CHAPTER  I 

I  HAD,  I  suppose,  some  reason  for  calling  on  Canon 
Beresford,  but  I  have  totally  forgotten  what  it  was. 
In  all  probability  my  mother  sent  me  to  discuss  some 
matter  connected  with  the  management  of  the  parish 
or  the  maintenance  of  the  fabric  of  the  church.  I  was 
then,  and  still  am,  a  church  warden.  The  office  is 
hereditary  in  my  family.  My  son  —  Miss  Pettigrew 
recommended  my  having  several  sons  —  will  hold  it 
when  I  am  gone.  My  mother  has  always  kept  me  up 
to  the  mark  in  the  performance  of  my  duties.  Without 
her  at  my  elbow  I  should,  I  am  afraid,  be  inclined  to 
neglect  them.  I  am  bored,  not  interested  as  a  church- 
warden should  be,  when  the  wall  of  the  graveyard  crum- 
bles unexpectedly.  I  fail  to  find  either  pleasure  or 
excitement  in  appointing  a  new  sexton.  Canon  Beres- 
ford, our  rector,  is  no  more  enthusiastic  about  such  things 
than  I  am.  He  and  I  are  very  good  friends,  but  when  he 
suspects  me  of  paying  him  a  business  visit  he  goes  out 
to  fish.  There  are,  I  believe,  trout  in  the  stream  which 
flows  at  the  bottom  of  the  glebe  land,  but  I  never  heard 
of  Canon  Beresford  catching  any  of  them. 

It  must  have  been  business  of  some  sort  which  took 


10  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

me  to  the  rectory  that  afternoon,  for  Canon  Beresford  had 
gone  out  with  his  rod.  Miss  Battersby  told  me  this  and 
added,  as  a  justification  of  her  own  agreeable  solitude, 
that  Lalage  was  with  her  father.  Miss  Battersby  is 
Lalage's  governess,  and  she  would  not  consider  it  right 
to  spend  the  afternoon  over  a  novel  unless  she  felt  sure 
that  her  pupil  was  being  properly  looked  after.  In  this 
case  she  was  misinformed.  Lalage  was  not  with  her 
father.  She  was  perched  on  one  of  the  highest  branches 
of  a  horse-chestnut  tree.  I  heard  her  before  I  saw  her, 
for  the  chestnut  tree  was  in  full  leaf  and  Lalage  had  to 
hail  me  three  or  four  times  before  I  discovered  where  she 
was.  I  always  liked  Lalage,  and  even  in  those  days  she 
had  a  friendly  feeling  for  me.  I  doubt,  however,  whether 
a  simple  desire  for  my  conversation  would  have  brought 
her  down  from  her  nest.  I  might  have  passed  without 
being  hailed  if  it  had  not  happened  that  I  was  riding  a 
new  bicycle.  In  those  days  bicycles  were  still  rare  in 
the  west  of  Ireland.  Mine  was  a  new  toy  and  Lalage 
had  never  seen  it  before.  She  climbed  from  her  tree  top 
with  remarkable  agility  and  swung  herself  from  the  lowest 
branch  with  such  skill  and  activity  that  she  alighted  on 
her  feet  close  beside  the  bicycle.  She  was  at  that  time 
a  little  more  than  fourteen  years  of  age.  She  asked  at 
once  to  be  allowed  to  ride  the  bicycle.  I  was  a  young 
man  then,  active  and  vigorous ;  but  I  was  hot,  breathless, 
and  exhausted  before  Lalage  had  enough  of  learning  to 
ride.  I  doubt  whether  she  would  have  given  in  even 
after  an  hour's  hard  work  if  we  had  not  met  with  a  serious 
accident.  We  charged  into  a  strong  laurel  bush. 
Lalage's  frock  was  torn.  The  rent  was  a  long  one, 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  H 

extending  diagonally  from  the  waistband  to  the  bottom 
hem.  I  knew,  even  while  I  offered  one  from  the  back  of 
my  tie,  that  a  pin  would  be  no  use. 

" Cattersby,"  said  Lalage,  "will  be  mad  —  raging 
mad.  She's  always  at  me  because  things  will  tear  my 
clothes.  Horrid  nuisance  clothes  are,  aren't  they? 
But  Cattersby  doesn't  think  so  of  course.  She  likes 
them." 

The  lady's  name  is  Battersby,  not  Cattersby.  She 
held  the  position  of  governess  to  Lalage  for  more  than  a 
year  and  is  therefore  entitled  to  respect.  Her  pre- 
decessor, a  Miss  Thomas,  resigned  after  six  weeks.  It 
was  my  mother  who  recommended  Miss  Battersby  to 
Canon  Beresford.  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  protest  against 
Lalage's  irreverent  way  of  speaking.  In  mere  loyalty 
to  my  mother,  apart  altogether  from  the  respect  which, 
as  a  landed  proprietor,  I  naturally  entertain  for  all  forms 
of  law  and  order,  I  was  absolutely  bound  to  say  some- 
thing. 

"You  should  speak  of  her  as  Miss  Battersby,"  I  said 
firmly. 

"I  call  her  Cattersby,"  said  Lalage,  "because  that  is 
her  nature." 

I  said  that  I  understood  what  this  marker  meant; 
but  Lalage,  who  even  then  had  a  remarkable  faculty 
for  getting  at  the  naked  truth  of  things,  did  not  even 
pretend  to  believe  me. 

"Come  along,"  she  said,  "and  I'll  show  you  why." 

I  followed  her  meekly,  leading  my  bicycle,  which,  like 
Lalage's  frock,  had  suffered  in  its  contest  with  the  laurel. 
We  passed .  through  the  stable  yard  and  I  stopped  to 


12  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

put  my  bicycle  into  the  coach  house.  An  Irish  terrier, 
Lalage's  property,  barked  at  me  furiously,  thinking,  I 
suppose,  that  I  intended  to  steal  Canon  Beresford's  cart. 
Lalage  chose  to  regard  this  as  a  ridiculous  affectation 
on  the  part  of  the  dog  and  shut  him  up  in  the  stable  as 
a  punishment  for  folly.  Then  we  climbed  a  stile,  paddled 
round  a  large  manure  heap,  crossed  an  ash  pit,  and  came 
at  last  to  a  pigsty.  There  were  no  pigs  in  it,  and  it  was, 
for  a  pigsty,  very  clean.  Lalage  opened  the  gate  and 
we  entered  the  small  enclosure  in  which  the  pigs, 
if  there  had  been  pigs,  would  have  taken  food  and 
exercise. 

"You'll  have  to  stoop  down  now  and  crawl,"  said 
Lalage.  "You  needn't  be  afraid.  The  pigs  were  sold 
last  week." 

I  realized  that  I  was  being  invited  to  enter  the  actual 
home,  the  private  sleeping  room,  of  the  departed  swine. 
The  door  of  it  had  been  newly  painted.  While  I  knelt 
in  front  of  it  I  read  a  notice  which  stretched  across  it  in 
large  white  letters,  done,  apparently,  with  chalk: 

THE  OFFICE  OF  THE  ANTI-CAT 

Editor:  Miss  Lalage  Beresford,  B.  A. 

Sub-Editor:  Ditto.    Ditto. 

Underneath  this  inscription  was  a  carefully  executed 
drawing  of  a  spear  with  a  large,  a  disproportionately 
large,  and  vicious  looking  barb.  A  sort  of  banner  de- 
pended from  its  shaft,  with  these  words  on  it:  "For 
Use  on  Cattersby.  Revenge  is  sweet!"  I  looked  round 
at  Lalage,  who  was  on  her  hands  and  knees  behind  me. 


LAIAGE'S  LOVERS  13 

I  intended  asking  for  some  explanation  of  the  extraor- 
dinarily vindictive  spirit  displayed  by  the  spear  and  the 
banner.  Lalage  forestalled  my  question  and  explained 
something  else. 

"I  have  the  office  here,"  she  said,  "because  it's  the 
only  place  where  I  can  be  quite  sure  she  won't  follow  me." 

This  time  I  understood  thoroughly  what  was  said 
to  me.  Cattersby  —  that  is  to  say,  Miss  Battersby  — 
if  she  were  the  sort  of  person  who  mourned  over  torn 
frocks,  and  if,  as  Lalage  suggested,  she  liked  clothes, 
would  be  very  unwilling  to  follow  any  one  into  the 
recesses  of  the  pigsty.  Even  a  bower  in  the  upper 
branches  of  a  tree  would  be  less  secure  from  her  in- 
trusion. We  crawled  in.  Against  the  far  wall  of  the 
chamber  stood  the  trough  from  which  the  pigs,  now 
no  doubt  deceased,  used  to  eat. 

"It  was  put  there,"  said  Lalage,  who  seemed  to  know 
that  I  was  thinking  of  the  trough,  "after  they  had  done 
cleaning  out  the  sty,  so  that  it  wouldn't  go  rotten  in  the 
wet  before  we  got  some  more  young  pigs." 

"Was  that  Miss  Battersby 's  idea?" 

"No,  it  wasn't.  Cattersby  wouldn't  think  of  anything 
half  so  useful.  All  she  cares  about  is  sums  and  history 
and  lessony  things.  It  was  Tom  Kitterick  who  put  it 
there,  and  I  helped  him.  Tom  Kitterick  is  the  boy  who 
cleans  the  boots  and  pumps  the  water.  It  was  that 
time,"  she  added,  "that  I  got  paint  all  over  my  blue 
dress.  She  said  it  was  Tom  Kitterick's  fault." 

"It  may  have  been,"  I  said,  "partly.  Anyhow  Tom 
Kitterick  is  a  red-haired,  freckly  youth.  It  wouldn't 
do  him  any  harm  to  be  slanged  a  bit  for  something." 


14  LAIAGE'S  LOVERS 

"It's  a  jolly  sight  better  to  have  freckles,  even  if  you 
come  out  all  over  like  a  turkey  egg,  than  to  go  rubbing 
stinking  stuff  on  your  face  at  night.  That's  what  Cat- 
tersby  does.  I  caught  her  at  it." 

Miss  Battersby  has  a  nice,  smooth  complexion  and  is, 
no  doubt,  quite  justified  in  doing  her  best  to  preserve 
it.  But  I  did  not  argue  the  point  with  Lalage.  A 
discussion  might  have  led  to  further  revelations  of  inti- 
mate details  of  the  lady's  toilet.  I  was  young  in  those 
days  and  I  rather  prided  myself  on  being  a  gentleman. 
I  changed  the  subject. 

"Perhaps,"  I  said,  "you  will  now  tell  me  why  you  have 
brought  me  here.-.  Are  we  to  have  a  picnic  tea  in  the 
pigs'  trough?" 

Lalage  crawled  past  me.  She  had  to  crawl,  for  there 
was  not  room  in  the  sty  for  even  a  child  to  stand  upright. 
She  took  out  of  the  trough  a  bundle  of  papers,  pierced 
at  the  top  left-hand  corner  and  tied  with  a  slightly  soiled 
blue  ribbon.  She  handed  it  to  me  and  I  looked  it  over. 
It  was,  apparently,  a  manuscript  magazine  modelled 
on  those  sold  at  railway  bookstalls  for  sixpence.  It 
was  called,  as  I  might  have  guessed,  the  Anti-Cat. 
The  table  of  contents  promised  the  following  reading 
matter: 

1.  Editor's  Chat. 

2.  Poetry  —  A  Farewell.    To  be  recited  in  her  presence. 

3.  The  Ignominy  of  Having  a  Governess. 

4.  Prize  Competition  for  the  Best  Insult  Story. 

"You  can  enter  for  that  if  you  like,"  said  Lalage,  who 
had  been  following  my  eyes  down  the  page. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  15 

"I  shall,"  I  said,  "if  she  insults  me;  but  she  never 
has  yet." 

"Nor  she  won't,"  said  Lalage.  "She'll  be  honey  to 
you.  That's  one  of  the  worst  things  about  her.  She's 
a  hypocrite.  I  loathe  hypocrites,  don't  you?" 

I  returned  to  the  table  of  contents: 

5.  On  Sneaking  —  First  Example. 

6.  Our  Tactics,  by  the  Editor. 

"She  won't  insult  you,"  said  Lalage.  "She  simply 
crawls  to  any  grown-up.  You  should  hear  her  talking 
to  father  and  pretending  that  she  thinks  fishing 
nice." 

"She's  perfectly  right  to  do  that.  After  all,  Lalage, 
your  father  is  a  canon  and  a  certain  measure  of  respect 
is  due  to  his  recreations  as  well  as  to  his  serious  work. 
Besides " 

"It's  never  right  to  crawl  to  any  one." 

"Besides,"  I  said,  "what  you  call  crawling  may  in 
reality  be  sympathy.  I'm  sure  Miss  Battersby  has  a 
sympathetic  disposition.  It  is  very  difficult  to  draw 
the  line  between  proper  respect,  flavoured  with  appre- 
ciative sympathy,  and  what  you  object  to  as  syco- 
phancy." 

"If  you're  going  to  try  and  show  oft7,"  said  Lalage, 
"by  using  ghastly  long  words  which  nobody  could  possibly 
understand  you'd  better  go  and  do  it  to  the  Cat.  She'll 
like  it.  I'm  not  going  to  sit  here  all  day  listening  to  you. 
Either  read  the  magazine  or  don't,  whichever  you  like. 
I  don't  care  whether  you  do  or  not,  but  I  won't  be 
jawed." 


16  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

This  subdued  me  at  once.  I  began  with  the 
poem: 

"Fair  Cattersby  I  weep  to  see 

You  haste  away  by  train, 
As  yet  that  Latin  exercise 

Has  not  been  done  again. 
Stay,  stay, 

Until  amo,  I  say. 

(To  be  continued  in  our  next)" 

"There  was  a  difficulty  about  the  last  three  lines,  I 
suppose,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Lalage.  "I  couldn't  remember  how  they 
went,  and  Cattersby  had  the  book.  She  pretends  she 
likes  reading  poetry,  though  she  doesn't  really,  and  she 
makes  me  learn  off  whole  chunks  of  it." 

"You  can't  deny  that  it  comes  in  useful  occasionally. 
I  don't  see  how  you  could  have  composed  that  parody 
if  she  hadn't  made  you  learn " 

"She  didn't.  That's  not  the  sort  of  poetry  she  makes 
me  learn.  If  it  was  I  might  do  it.  She  finds  out  rotten 
things  about  'Little  Lamb,  who  made  you?'  'We  are 
Seven,'  and  stuff  of  that  sort.  Not  what  I  call  poetry 
at  all." 

I  had  the  good  sense  while  at  Oxford  to  attend  some 
lectures  given  by  the  professor  of  poetry.  I  also  belonged 
for  a  time  to  an  association  modestly  called  "The  Brother- 
hood of  Rhyme."  We  used  to  meet  in  my  rooms  and 
read  original  compositions  to  each  other  until  none 
of  us  could  stand  it  any  longer.  I  am  therefore  thor- 
oughly well  qualified  to  discuss  poetry  with  any  one. 


LAIAGE'S  LOVERS  17 

I  should,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  have  taken  a 
pleasure  in  defending  the  reputations  of  Blake  and 
Wordsworth,  but  I  shrank  from  attempting  to  do  so  in 
a  pigsty  with  Lalage  Beresford  as  an  opponent.  I 
turned  to  the  last  page  of  the  Anti-Cat  and  read  the 
article  entitled  "Our  Tactics."  It  was  exceedingly 
short,  but  it  struck  me  as  able.  I  began  to  have  a 
great  deal  of  pity  for  Miss  Battersby. 

"Calm"  (or  Balm.  There  was  an  uncertainty  about 
the  first  letter)  "and  haughty  in  her  presence.  Let  your- 
self out  behind  her  back." 

"What  about  your  going  in  for  the  competition?" 
said  Lalage.  "Even  if  she  doesn't  insult  you  you  could 
easily  invent  something.  You've  seen  her  and  you 
know  quite  well  the  sort  she  is.  You  might  get  the 
prize." 

"May  I  read  the  story  you've  got?"  I  asked.  "If 
it's  not  very  good  I  might  perhaps  try;  but  it  is  probably 
quite  superior  to  anything  I  could  possibly  produce, 
and  in  that  case  there  would  be  no  use  my  attempting 
to  compete." 

"It  is  good,"  said  Lalage,  "but  yours  might  be  good 
too,  and  then  I  should  divide  the  prize,  or  you  could 
give  a  second  prize;  a  box  of  Turkish  Delight  would  do." 

This  encouraged  me  and  I  read  the  "Insult  Story." 

"I  did  my  lessons  studiously,  as  good  as  I  could." 
Lalage  was  a  remarkably  good  speller  for  her  age.  Many 
much  older  people  would  have  staggered  over  "stu- 
diously." She  took  it,  so  to  speak,  in  her  stride. 

"I  wrote  out  a  lot  of  questions  on  the  history  and 
answered  them  all  without  looking  at  the  book.  I  knew 


18  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

it  perfectly.  The  morning  came  and  with  it  history. 
I  answered  all  the  questions  except  one  —  the  character 
of  Mary.  The  insulter  repeated  it,  commanding  me  to 
'Say  it  now.'  I  said  it  with  a  bland  smile  upon  my  face, 
as  I  thought  how  well  I  knew  my  history." 

"Lalage,"  I  said,  pausing  in  the  narrative,  "did  you 
make  that  smile  bland  simply  because  you  knew  your 
history  or  was  its  blandness  part  of  the  tactics,  'Balm 
and  haughty  in  her  presence ?": 

"Calm,"  said  Lalage,  "calm,  not  balm.  Never  mind 
about  that.  Go  on." 

"The  insulter,"  I  read,  "turned  crimson  with  rage  and 
shrieked  demnation  and  stamped  about  the  floor.  Cool- 
ing down  a  bit,  she  said, '  You  shall  write  it  out  ten  times 
this  afternoon.'  Naturally  I  was  astonished,  for  I  had 
said  it  perfectly  correctly  when  she  told  me.  I  had, 
however,  a  better  control  over  my  temper  than  she  had, 
and  managed,  despite  my  passionate  thoughts,  to  smile 
blandly  all  through,  though  it  made  her  ten  times  worse." 

"Well?"  said  Lalage  when  I  had  finished. 
.    "I  am  a  little  confused,"  I  said.     "I  thought  the  story 
was  to  be  about  an  insult  offered  by  Miss  Battersby  to 
some  one  else,  you,  or  perhaps  me." 

"It  is,"  said  Lalage.  "That's  what  the  prize  is  for, 
the  best  insult." 

"But  this  seems  to  me  to  be  about  an  insult  applied 
by  the  author  to  Miss  Battersby.  I  couldn't  conscien- 
tiously go  in  for  a  competition  in  which  I  should  repre- 
sent myself  as  doing  a  thing  of  that  sort." 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  said  Lalage. 
"I  didn't  insult  her.  She  insulted  me." 


LAIAGE'S  LOVERS  19 

"Come  now,  Lalage,  honour  bright!  That  smile  of 
yours!  How  would  you  like  any  one  to  make  you  ten 
times  worse  by  smiling  blandly  at  you  when  you  happened 
to  be  stamping  about  the  floor  crimson  in  the  face  and 
shrieking " 

"I  wouldn't.  I  don't  use  words  of  that  sort  even  when 
I'm  angry." 

"It  might  be  better  if  you  did.  A  frank  outburst  of 
that  kind  is  at  times  less  culpable  than  a  balmy  smile. 
I  have  a  much  greater  respect  and  liking  for  the  person 
who  says  plainly  what  she  means  than " 

"  She  didn't.     She  wouldn't  think  it  ladylike.'* 

"Didn't  what?" 

"Didn't  say  straight  out  what  she  meant." 

"She  can't  have  meant  more,"  I  said.  "After  all, 
we  must  be  reasonable.  There  isn't  any  more  that 
any  one  could  mean." 

"You're  very  stupid,"  said  Lalage.  "I  keep  on  telling 
you  she  didn't  say  it.  She's  far  too  great  a  hypocrite." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  she  didn't  stamp  about 
the  floor  and  say " 

I  hesitated.  I  have  been  very  carefully  brought  up 
and  I  am  a  churchwarden.  Besides,  there  is  a  Latin 
tag  which  Canon  Beresford,  who  has  a  taste  for  tags, 
quotes  occasionally,  about  the  great  reverence  due  to 
boys.  Obviously  a  much  greater  reverence  must  be  due 
to  girls.  I  did  not  want  my  conscience  to  have  an 
opportunity  for  reproaching  me.  Therefore  I  hesitated 
when  it  came  to  the  point  of  saying  out  loud  a  word  which 
Lelage  ought  certainly  not  to  hear. 

She  came  to  my  rescue  and  finished  my  sentence  for 


20  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

me  in  a  way  which  got  me  out  of  my  difficulty.  Very 
likely  she  felt  that  she  ought  not  to  corrupt  me. 

"That  word,"  she  said. 

"Thanks!  We'll  put  it  that  way.  Am  I  to  under- 
stand that  she  didn't  say  that  word?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Lalage.  "She  couldn't  if  she 
tried.  I  should  —  I  really  think  I  should  quite  like  her 
if  she  did." 

I  felt  that  this  was  as  far  as  I  was  at  all  likely  to  get 
in  bringing  Lalage  to  a  better  frame  of  mind.  Her 
attitude  toward  her  governess  was  very  far  indeed  from 
that  enjoined  in  the  Church  Catechism,  but  I  lacked  the 
courage  to  tell  her  so.  Nor  do  I  think  I  should  have 
effected  much  even  if  I  had  been  as  brave  in  rebuke  as  an 
archdeacon  or  a  bishop.  Besides,  I  felt  that  I  had 
accomplished  something.  Lalage  had  committed  her- 
self to  an  approval  of  a  hypothetical  Miss  Battersby. 
If  a  governess  could  be  found  in  the  world  who  would 
stamp  about  the  floor  and  shriek  that  word,  or  if  Miss 
Battersby  would  learn  the  habit  of  violent  profanity, 
Lalage  would  quite  like  her.  It  was  a  definite  conces- 
sion. I  had  a  mental  vision  of  the  changed  Miss  Bat- 
tersby, a  lady  freckled  from  head  to  foot,  magnificently 
contemptuous  of  glycerine  and  cucumber,  who  hated 
clothes  and  tore  them  when  she  could,  who  rejoiced  to 
see  blue  dresses  with  blobs  of  bright  red  paint  on  them, 
who  scoffed  openly  at  Blake's  poetry,  who  had  been  to 
sea  or  companied  with  private  soldiers  on  the  battle- 
field, and  so  garnered  a  store  of  scorching  blasphemies. 
I  imagined  Lalage  taking  this  paragon  to  her  heart, 
clinging  to  her  with  warm  affection,  leading  her  into 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  21 

pigstys  for  confidential  chats,  and,  if  she  published  a 
magazine  at  all,  calling  it  Our  Feline  Friend.  But  the 
dream  faded,  as  such  dreams  do.  Miss  Battersby  was 
plainly  incapable  of  rising  to  the  heights  required. 

It  is  to  my  credit  that  in  the  end  I  did  make  an  effort 
to  soften  Lalage. 

"I  wish,"  I  said,  "that  you'd  try  and  call  her  Pussy 
instead  of  Cat." 

"Why?     What's  the  difference?" 

"The  meaning  is  the  same,"  I  said.  "But  it's  a 
much  kinder  way  of  putting  it.  You  ought  to  try  and  be 
kind,  Lalage." 

She  pondered  this  advice  for  a  while  and  then  said: 

"I  would,  if  only  she'd  stop  kissing  me." 

"Does  she  do  it  often?" 

"Every  morning  and  every  evening  and  sometimes 
during  the  day." 

That  settled  it.  I  could  not  press  my  point.  Once, 
years  afterward,  Miss  Battersby  very  nearly  kissed  me, 
but  even  before  there  was  any  chance  of  such  a  thing  I 
was  able  to  sympathize  with  Lalage.  I  crept  out  of  the 
pigsty  and  went  home  again,  leading  my  injured  bicycle. 


CHAPTER  II 

is  a  short  cut  which  leads  from  my  house  to 
•••  the  church,  and  therefore,  of  course,  to  the  rectory, 
which  stands,  as  rectories  often  do,  close  to  the  church. 
The  path  —  it  can  only  be  used  by  those  who  walk 
—  leads  past  the  garden  and  through  a  wood  to  the  high 
road.  It  was  on  this  path,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so  from 
the  road,  that  I  met  Canon  Beresford,  about  ten  days 
after  my  interview  with  Lalage  in  the  pigsty.  Certain 
wood  pigeons  of  low  morality  had  been  attacking 
our  gooseberry  bushes.  My  mother,  instigated  by  the 
gardener,  demanded  their  destruction,  and  so  I  went 
out  with  a  gun.  I  shot  two  of  the  worst  offenders. 
The  gardener  discovered  half  digested  fruit  in  the  dead 
bodies,  so  I  am  sure  that  I  got  the  right  birds  and  did  not 
unjustly  execute  the  innocent.  Then  I  met  the  Canon. 
He  displayed  no  interest  whatever  in  the  destruction 
of  the  wood  pigeons,  although  his  garden  must  have 
suffered  quite  as  much  as  ours.  I  remarked  that 
it  was  nearly  luncheon  time  and  asked  him  to  return 
with  me  and  share  the  meal.  He  was  distraught  and 
nervous,  but  he  managed  to  quote  Horace  by  way  of 
reply: 

"Destrictus  ensis  cui  super  impia 
Cervice  pendet,  non  Siculae  dapes.     .     .     ." 

22 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  23 

The  Canon's  fondness  for  Horace  accounts,  I  suppose, 
for  the  name  he  gave  his  daughter.  His  habit  of  quoting 
is  troublesome  to  me,  because  I  cannot  always  translate 
what  he  says.  But  he  has  a  feeling  for  my  infirmity 
and  a  tactful  way  of  saving  my  self-respect. 

"If  you  had  a  heavy,  two-handed  sword  hanging  over 
your  head  by  a  hair,"  he  explained,  "you  would  be  think- 
ing about  something  else  besides  luncheon." 

"What  has  the  Archdeacon  been  doing?"  I  asked. 

The  Archdeacon  is  a  man  with  a  thirst  for  information 
about  church  affairs,  and  he  collects  what  he  wants  by 
means  of  questions  printed  on  sheets  of  paper  which  he 
expects  other  people  to  answer.  Canon  Beresford,  who 
never  has  statistics  at  hand,  and  consequently  has  to 
invent  his  answers  to  the  questions,  suffers  a  good  deal 
from  the  Archdeacon. 

"It's  not  the  Archdeacon  this  time,"  he  said.  "I 
wish  it  was.  The  fact  is  I  am  in  trouble  again 
about  Lalage.  I  am  on  my  way  up  to  consult  your 
mother." 

"Has  Miss  Battersby  been  complaining?" 

"She's  leaving,"  said  the  Canon,  at  once.  "Leaving, 
so  to  speak,  vigorously." 

"I  was  afraid  it  would  come  to  that.  She  wasn't 
the  sort  of  woman  who'd  readily  take  to  swearing." 

"I  very  nearly  did,"  said  the  Canon.  "She  cried. 
It's  curious,  but  she  really  seems  fond  of  Lalage." 

"Did  she  by  any  chance  force  her  way  into  the  pig- 
sty and  find  the  Anti-Cat?" 

Canon  Beresford  looked  at  me  and  a  smile  hovered 
about  his  mouth. 


24  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"So  you've  seen  that  production?"  he  said.  "I  call 
it  rather  good." 

"But  you  can  hardly  blame  Miss  Battersby  for  leaving, 
can  you?" 

"She  didn't  see  it,"  said  the  Canon,  "thank  goodness." 

"Then  why  on  earth  is  she  leaving?  What  else  can 
she  have  to  complain  of?" 

"There  was  trouble.  The  sort  of  trouble  nobody  could 
possibly  foresee  or  guard  against.  You  know  Tom 
Kitterick,  don't  you?" 

"The  boy  who  cleans  your  boots?  Yes,  I  do.  A 
freckly  faced  brat." 

"Exactly.  Well,  it  appears  that  Miss  Battersby  is 
rather  particular  about  her  complexion,  and 

"Lalage  tried  the  stuff  on  Tom  Kitterick,  I  suppose." 

"Yes.  She  used  the  whole  bottle,  and  Miss  Battersby 
found  out  what  had  happened  and  complained  to  me. 
She  was  extremely  nice  about  it,  but  she  said  that  the 
incident  had  made  her  position  as  Lalage's  governess 
quite  impossible." 

"Lalage,  of  course,  smiled  balmily." 

"Calmly,"  said  the  Canon.  "She  told  me  herself 
that  the  word  was  calm,  though  it  looked  rather  like 
'  balm/  Anyhow,  that  was  the  last  straw.  Miss  Bat- 
tersby goes  next  week.  The  Archdeacon " 

"I  thought  he'd  come  in  before  we'd  done." 

"He  did  his  best  to  be  sympathetic  and  helpful.  He 
said  yesterday,  just  before  he  went  to  Dublin,  that  what 
Lalage  requires  is  a  firm  hand  over  her.  That's  the  sort 
of  thing  a  bachelor  with  no  children  of  his  own  does  say, 
and.  means  of  course.  Any  man  who  had  ever  tried  to 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  25 

bring  up  a  girl  would  know  that  firm  hands  are  totally 
useless,  and,  besides,  I  haven't  got  any.  Won  sum 
qualis  eram  bonae  sub  regno.  .  .  .'  Don't  try  to 
translate  that  if  you'd  rather  not.  It  simply  means  that 
I'm  not  the  man  I  used  to  be.  I  hate  trying  to  cope  with 
these  domestic  broils.  That's  why  I'm  going  up  to  see 
your  mother." 

The  drawn  sword  did  not  really  interfere  with  the 
Canon's  appetite,  but  he  refused  to  smoke  a  cigar  after 
luncheon.  I  went  off  by  myself  to  the  library.  He 
followed  my  mother  into  the  drawing-room.  I  waited, 
although  I  had  a  good  many  things  to  do,  until  he  joined 
me.  He  sighed  heavily  as  he  sat  down. 

"Lalage  is  to  go  to  school  after  summer,"  he  said. 

"My  mother,"  I  replied  with  conviction,  "is  sure  to 
be  right  about  a  matter  like  that." 

"I  suppose  she  is;  but  Lalage  won't  like  it." 

The  Canon  sighed  again,  heavily.  I  tried  to  cheer 
him  up. 

"She'll  enjoy  the  companionship  of  the  other  girls," 
I  said.  **  I  daresay  she  won't  have  a  bad  time.  After 
all,  a  girl  of  fourteen  ought  to  have  friends  of  her  own  age. 
It  will  be  far  better  for  her  to  be  running  about  with  a 
skipping  rope  in  a  crowd  of  other  damsels  than  to  be 
climbing  chestnut  trees  and  writing  parodies  in  lonely 
pigstys." 

"That's  very  much  what  your  mother  said.  I  wish 
I  could  think  so.  I'm  dreadfully  afraid  that,  brought 
up  as  she  has  been,  she'll  have  a  bad  time  of  it." 

"Anyhow,  she  won't  have  half  as  bad  a  time  as  the 
schoolmistress . ' ' 


26  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

I  had  hit  upon  the  true  line  of  consolation.  The 
Canon  smiled  feebly,  and  I  pursued  my  subject. 

"There  won't,  of  course,  be  pigstys  in  the  school, 
but- 

"I  don't  think  a  pigsty  is  absolutely  essential  to  Lalage's 
comfort." 

"Probably  not.  Lalage  isn't  the  sort  of  girl  who  is 
dependent  for  her  happiness  on  the  accident  of  outward 
circumstance.  You  know,  Canon,  that  our  surroundings 
are  not  the  things  which  really  matter  most.  The 
philosophic  mind  — 

I  had  unthinkingly  given  the  Canon  his  opportunity. 
I  could  see  a  well-known  quotation  actually  trembling 
on  his  lips.  I  stopped  him  ruthlessly. 

"I  know  that  ode,"  I  said.  "It's  one  I  learned  at 
school,  but  it  doesn't  apply  to  Lalage.  She  isn't  in  the 
least  content  with  things  as  she  finds  them.  That's 
her  great  charm.  She's  more  like  Milton's  Satan." 

I  can  quote  too,  though  only  English  poets,  unless 
after  special  preparation  beforehand.  I  intended  to 
shoot  off  some  lines  out  of  "Paradise  Lost"  at  the  Canon, 
but  he  would  not  listen.  He  may  not  have  liked  the 
comparison  suggested. 

"I  have  to  be  off,"  he  said.  "Lalage  is  waiting  to 
hear  what  your  mother  has  settled.  I  mustn't  keep 
her  too  long." 

"Did  you  tell  her  you  were  coming  up  here  for  advice?" 

"Of  course  I  did.  She  quite  agreed  with  me  that  it 
was  the  best  thing  to  do.  She  always  says  that  your 
mother  is  the  only  person  she  knows  who  has  any  sense. 
Miss  Battersby's  sudden  resignation  was  rather  a  shock 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  27 

to  her.  She  was  in  a  curiously  chastened  mood  this 
morning." 

"She'll  get  over  that  all  right,"  I  said.  "She'll  be 
bringing  out  another  number  of  the  Anti-Cat  in  a  couple 
of  days." 

I  spent  two  hours  after  the  Canon  left  me  watching 
the  building  of  a  new  lodge  at  my  back  gate.  My  mother 
professes  to  believe  that  work  of  this  kind,  indeed  of  any 
kind,  is  better  done  if  I  go  and  look  at  it.  In  reality 
I  think  she  is  anxious  to  provide  me  with  some  sort  of 
occupation  and  to  interest  me  in  the  management  of 
such  property  as  recent  legislation  has  left  to  an  Irish 
landlord.  But  she  may  be  right  in  supposing  that  the 
builders  build  better  when  I  am  watching  them.  They 
certainly  build  less  rapidly.  The  foreman  is  a  pleasant 
fellow,  with  a  store  of  interesting  anecdotes.  I  give  him 
tobacco  in  some  form  and  he  narrates  his  experiences. 
The  other  workmen  listen  and  grin  appreciatively. 
Thus  a  certain  sedateness  of  progress  is  ensured  and  all 
danger  of  hasty  building,  which  is,  I  understand,  called 
jerry  building,  is  avoided. 

At  five  o'clock,  after  I  had  heard  some  twenty  or 
thirty  stories  and  the  builders  had  placed  in  position  about 
the  same  number  of  stones,  I  went  home  in  search  of 
afternoon  tea.  My  mother  was  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  Miss  Battersby  was  with  her.  She  too,  had  come 
to  ask  advice.  I  am  sure  she  needed  it,  poor  woman. 
What  she  said  about  Lalage  I  do  not  know,  for  the  sub- 
ject was  dropped  when  I  entered  the  room,  but  Miss 
Battersby 's  position  evidently  commanded  my  mother's 
sympathy.  Shortly  after  leaving  the  rectory  she  was 


28  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

established,  on  my  mother's  recommendation,  in  Thor- 
manby  Park.  Lord  Thormanby,  who  is  my  uncle,  has 
three  daughters,  all  of  them  nice,  well-disposed  girls, 
not  the  least  like  Lalage.  Miss  Battersby  got  on  well 
with  them,  taught  them  everything  which  well-educated 
girls  in  their  position  ought  to  know.  She  finally  settled 
down  as  a  sort  of  private  secretary  to  Lord  Thormanby. 
He  needed  some  one  of  the  sort,  for  as  he  grew  older  he 
became  more  and  more  addicted  to  public  business.  He 
is  at  present  about  sixty-five.  If  he  lives  to  be  seventy 
and  goes  on  as  he  is  going,  Miss  Battersby  will  have  to 
retire  in  favour  of  some  one  who  can  write  shorthand  and 
manipulate  a  typewriter.  She  will  then,  I  have  no  doubt, 
play  a  blameless  part  in  life  by  settling  flowers  for  Lady 
Thormanby.  But  all  this  is  still  a  long  way  off. 

I  was  naturally  anxious  to  hear  Miss  Battersby's 
version  of  the  experimental  treatment  of  Tom  Kitterick's 
complexion.  I  hoped  that  my  mother  would  have  told 
me  the  story  voluntarily.  She  did  not,  so  I  approached 
the  subject  obliquely  after  dinner. 

"The  Archdeacon,"  I  said,  "was  lamenting  to  me  this 
morning  that  Mrs.  Beresford  died  while  Lalage  was 
still  a  baby." 

My  mother  seemed  a  little  surprised  to  hear  this. 

"He  takes  the  greatest  interest  in  Lalage,"  I  added. 
"She's  a  very  attractive  little  girl." 

"Very,"  said  my  mother.  "But  I  thought  the  Arch- 
deacon went  to  Dublin  yesterday.  He  certainly  told 
me  he  was  going.  Did  he  come  back  at  once?" 

"So  far  as  I  know  he  hasn't  come  back." 

"Then  when  did  he  say " 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  29 

"He  didn't  actually  say  it  at  all.  He  hardly  ever  says 
anything  to  me.  I  so  seldom  see  him,  you  know." 

This  at  least  was  true.  Although  the  seat  of  the 
archdeaconry  is  in  Drumbo,  a  town  which  contains  our 
nearest  railway  station  and  which  is  our  chief  centre  for 
local  shopping,  I  had  not  spoken  to  the  Archdeacon 
for  more  than  three  months.  My  mother  seemed  to 
be  waiting  for  an  explanation  of  my  original  remark. 
I  gave  her  one  at  once. 

"But  it's  exactly  the  kind  of  thing  the  Archdeacon 
would  have  said  if  he  hadn't  been  in  Dublin  and  if  I  had 
met  him  and  if  our  conversation  had  happened  to  turn 
on  Lalage  Beresford." 

My  mother  admitted  frankly  that  this  was  true; 
but  she  seemed  to  think  my  explanation  incomplete. 
I  added  to  it. 

"He  went  on  to  speak  at  some  length,"  I  said.  "That 
is  to  say  he  would  have  gone  on  to  speak  at  some  length 
about  the  great  importance  of  a  mother's  influence  during 
the  early  years  of  a  girl's  life." 

My  mother  still  looked  at  me  and  her  face  still  wore  a 
questioning  expression.  It  was  evident  to  me  that  I 
must  further  justify  myself. 

"So  I'm  not  doing  the  Archdeacon  any  wrong,"  I 
went  on,  "in  putting  into  his  mouth  words  and  sentiments 
which  he  would  certainly  approve.  I  happen  to  have 
forestalled  him  in  giving  them  expression,  but  he  would 
readily  endorse  them.  You  know  yourself  that  he's 
great  on  subjects  like  the  sacred  home  influence  of  a 
good  woman." 

"I  suppose,."  said  my  mother  after  a  pause,  "that  you 


30  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

want  to  (hear  the  whole  account  of  Lalage's  latest 
escapade?" 

"Miss  Battersby's  version  of  it,"  I  said.  "I  heard 
the  Canon's  after  luncheon." 

"And  that  story  of  yours  about  the  Archdeacon  - 

"That,"  I  said,  "was  my  way  of  introducing  the  subject 
without  displaying  what  might  strike  you  as  vulgar 
curiosity.  I  have  too  much  respect  for  you  to  heckle 
you  with  aggressive  inquiries  as  if  you  wrere  a  Chief 
Secretary  for  Ireland  and  I  were  a  Member  of  Parliament. 
Besides,  I  don't  like  the  feeling  that  I'm  asking  blunt 
questions  about  Miss  Battersby's  private  affairs.  After 
all,  she's  a  lady.  I'm  sure  you'll  appreciate  my  feelings." 

"Lalage,"  said  my  mother,  "is  an  extremely  naughty 
little  girl  who  will  be  a  great  deal  better  at  school." 

"But  have  you  considered  the  plan  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  school  you're  sending  her  to?" 

"Miss  Pettigrew  is  an  old  friend  of  mine  and " 

"Is  she  the  schoolmistress?" 

"The  principal,"  said  my  mother,  "and  she's  quite 
capable  of  dealing  with  Lalage." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  her.  As  I  told  the  Canon  this 
afternoon,  Lalage  will  probably  be  very  good  for  her." 

"She'll  certainly  be  very  good  for  Lalage." 

"I'm  not  saying  anything  the  least  derogatory  to  Miss 
Pettigrew.  Schoolmasters  are  just  the  same.  So  are 
the  heads  of  colleges.  The  position  tends  to  develop 
certain  quite  trifling  defects  of  character  for  which  Lalage 
will  be  an  almost  certain  cure." 

"You  don't  know  Miss  Pettigrew." 

"No,  I  don't.     That's  the  reason  I'm  trying  not  to 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  31 

talk  of  her.  What  I'm  considering  and  what  you  ought 
to  be  considering  is  the  effect  of  Lalage  on  the  other 
girls.  Think  of  those  nice,  innocent  young  creatures, 
fresh  from  their  sheltered  homes  - 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  my  mother,  "what  on  earth  do 
you  know  about  little  girls?" 

"Nothing,"  I  said,  "but  I've  always  been  led  to  believe 
that  they  are  sweet  and  innocent." 

"Let  me  tell  you  then,"  said  my  mother,  "that  Lalage 
has  a  career  of  real  usefulness  before  her  in  that  school. 
Most  girls  of  her  age  are  inclined  to  be  sentimental  and 
occasionally  priggish.  Lalage  will  do  them  all  the  good 
in  the  world." 

I  wonder  why  it  is  that  so  many  able  women  have  an 
incurably  low  opinion  of  their  own  sex?  My  mother 
would  not  say  things  like  that  about  schoolboys,  though 
they  are  at  least  equally  sentimental  and  most  of  them 
more  priggish.  She  is  extremely  kind  to  people  like  Miss 
Battersby,  although  she  regards  them  as  pitiably  in- 
competent when  their  cosmetics  are  used  on  stable-boys. 
Yet  she  would  not  despise  me  or  regard  it  as  my  fault 
if  some  one  took  my  shaving  soap  and  washed  a  kitchen 
maid's  face  with  it. 

"So,"  I  said,  "Lalage  is  to  go  forth  as  a  missionary  of 
anarchy,  a  ravening  wolf  into  the  midst  of  a  sheepfold." 

"The  Archdeacon  was  saying  to  me  this  morning,"  said 
my  mother,  "that  if  you " 

"May  I  interrupt  you  one  moment?"  I  said.  "I 
understood  that  the  Archdeacon  was  in  Dublin." 

"This,"  said  my  mother,  "is  another  of  the  things  which 
the  Archdeacon  would  have  said  if  he  had  been  at  home." 


32  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "in  that  case  I  should  particularly  like 
to  hear  it." 

"He  said,  or  would  have  said,  that  if  you  allow  your 
habit  of  flippant  talking  to  grow  on  you  you'll  lose  all 
hold  on  the  solemn  realities  of  life  and  become  a  totally 
useless  member  of  society." 

"I  quite  admit,"  I  said,  "that  the  Archdeacon  would 
have  put  it  in  pretty  nearly  those  words  if  he  had  said  it. 
I  particularly  admire  that  part  about  the  solemn  realities 
of  life.  But  the  Archdeacon's  a  just  man  and  he  would 
not  have  made  a  remark  of  that  kind.  He  knows  the 
facts.  I  hold  a  commission  in  the  militia,  which  is  one 
of  the  armed  forces  of  the  Crown;  auxiliary  is,  I  think, 
the  word  properly  applied  to  it.  I  am  a  justice  of  the 
peace  and  every  Wednesday  I  sit  on  the  judgment  seat 
in  Drumbo  and  agree  with  the  stipendiary  magistrate 
in  administering  justice.  I  am  also  a  churchwarden  and 
the  Archdeacon  is  well  aware  of  what  that  means.  He 
would  be  the  first  to  admit  that  these  are  solemn  realities. 
I  don't  see  what  more  I  can  do,  unless  I  stand  for  Parlia- 
ment. I  suppose  a  constituency  might  be  found  some- 
where which  would  value  a  man  with  a  good  temper 
and  a  little  money  to  spare." 

"Perhaps,"  said  my  mother  smiling,  "we'll  find  that 
constituency  for  you  some  day." 

This  was  the  first  hint  I  ever  got  of  my  unfortunate 
destiny.  It  gave  me  a  feeling  of  chill.  There  is  nothing  I 
want  less  than  a  seat  in  Parliament;  but  nothing  seems  more 
certain  now  than  that  I  shall  get  one.  Even  then,  when 
my  mother  made  her  first  smiling  reference  to  the  subject, 
I  knew  in  my  heart  that  there  was  no  escape  for  me. 


CHAPTER  III 

LALAGE'S  departure  from  our  midst  took  place 
early  in  September  and  happened  on  a  Wednesday, 
the  day  of  the  Drumbo  Petty  Sessions.  Our  list  of 
malefactors  that  week  was  a  particularly  short  one 
and  I  was  able  to  leave  the  court  house  in  good 
time  to  see  Lalage  off  at  the  railway  station.  I  was 
in  fact,  in  very  good  time  and  arrived  half  an  hour 
before  the  train  was  advertised  to  leave.  Canon  Beres- 
ford  and  Lalage  were  there  before  me.  The  Canon, 
when  I  came  upon  them,  was  pressing  Lalage  to  help 
herself  to  chocolate  creams  from  a  large  box  which 
he  held  open  in  his  hand.  He  greeted  me  with  an 
apologetic  quotation: 

"Nunc  vino  pellite  curas 

Cras  ingens  iterabimus  sequor." 

"When  you  come  home  for  the  Christmas  holidays, 
Lalage,"  I  said,  "you'll  be  able  to  translate  that.  In  the 
meanwhile  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  it  means  — 

"You  needn't,"  said  Lalage.  "Father  has  told  me 
four  times  already.  He  has  been  saying  it  over  and  over 
ever  since  breakfast.  It  means  that  I  may  as  well  eat 
as  much  as  I  can  now  because  I  shall  be  sick  to-morrow 
any  way.  But  that's  all  humbug,  of  course.  I  shouldn't 

33 


34  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

be  sick  if  I  ate  the  whole  box.  Last  Christmas  I  ate 
three  boxes  as  well  as  plum  pudding." 

I  felt  snubbed.  So,  I  think,  did  the  Canon.  Lalage 
smiled  at  us,  but  more  in  pity  than  in  balm. 

"I  call  this  rather  a  scoop  for  me,"  said  Lalage. 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  I  said,  "for  I've  brought  a  bottle 
of  French  plums  from  my  mother  and  a  box  of  Turkish 
Delight  which  I  bought  out  of  my  own  money." 

"Thanks,"  said  Lalage.  "But  it  wasn't  the  chocolates 
I  was  thinking  of.  The  scoop  I  mean  is  going  to  school. 
It's  a  jolly  sight  better  than  rotting  about  here  with  a 
beastly  governess." 

"You  can't  expect  any  governess  to  enjoy  being  robbed 
of  her  glycerine  and  cucumber,"  I  said.  "You  wouldn't 
like  it  yourself." 

"That  wasn't  the  real  reason,"  said  Lalage.  "Even 
Cattersby  had  more  sense  than  that." 

"She  means,"  said  the  Canon,  "that  it  didn't  begin 
there." 

"No,"  I  said,  "it  began  with  the  character  of 
Mary." 

"It  didn't,"  said  Lalage.  "She'd  forgotten  all  about 
that  and  so  had  I.  What  really  began  it  was  my  birth- 
day. For  three  weeks  I  had  suggested  a  holiday  for  that 
day  from  the  tyrant.  Her  answer  had  ever  been:  *A 
half  will  do  you  nicely.'  If  pressed:  'You  are  very 
ungrateful.  I  may  not  give  you  even  that.'  So  I 
acted  boldly.  It  was  breakfast  time  and  we  were  eating 
fish- 

" Trout,"  said  the  Canon.  "I  remember  the  morning 
perfectly.  Tom  Kitterick  caught  them  the  day  before. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  35 

I  took  him  out  with  me.  The  Archdeacon  had  been 
over  to  see  me." 

"Laying  down  my  fork,"  Lalage  went  on,  "I  said  to 
no  one  in  particular " 

"Excuse  me,  Lalage,"  I  said,  "but  is  this  a  quotation 
from  the  last  number  of  the  Anti-Cat?" 

* '  It  is .     I  had  an  article  about  it .     How  did  you  guess  ? ' ' 

"There  was  something  in  the  style  of  the  narrative, 
a  certain  quite  appreciable  literary  flavour  which  sug- 
gested the  Anti-Cat;  but  please  go  on  and  keep  to  the 
words  of  the  article  as  far  as  possible.  You  had  just 
got  to  where  you  spoke  to  no  one  in  particular." 

"Laying  down  my  fork,  I  said  to  no  one  in  particular: 
'Of  course  I  get  a  holiday  for  my  birthday.'  *I  think 

a  half '  began  she.  'Of  course/ said  father  loudly, 

'a  holiday  on  such  a  great  occasion.'  Her  face  fell. 
Her  scowl  deepened.  To  hide  her  rage  she  blew  her 
nose.  There  was  a  revengeful  glitter  in  her  eye." 

Lalage  paused. 

"I  need  scarcely  tell  you,"  said  the  Canon,  "that  I  had 
no  idea  when  I  spoke  that  there  had  been  any  previous 
discussion  of  the  subject." 

"The  article  ends  there,  I  suppose,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Lalage.  "She  had  it  in  for  me  after  that 
worse  than  ever,  knowing  that  I  had  jolly  well  scored 
off  her." 

"And  in  the  end  she  broke  out  over  your  effort  to 
improve  Tom  Kitterick's  complexion?" 

"She  sneaked,"  said  Lalage;  "sneaked  to  father. 
I  wrote  an  article  about  that.  It's  in  my  box  if  you'd 
like  to  see  it." 


36  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

The  Canon's  eyes  met  mine.  Then  we  both  looked  at 
our  watches.  We  had  still  ten  minutes  before  the  train 
started. 

"It's  about  halfway  down,"  said  Lalage,  "on  the  left- 
hand  side." 

"I  think  we  might "  I  said. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Canon.     "In  fact  we  must." 

We  moved  together  across  the  platform  toward  the 
porter's  barrow,  on  which  Lalage's  trunk  lay. 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  article,"  I  said,  fumbling  with 
the  strap. 

"It  isn't  so  much  that,"  said  the  Canon.  "Somebody 
is  sure  to  unpack  her  box  for  her  to-night,  and  if  Miss 
Pettigrew  came  on  the  thing  and  read  it " 

"She  would  be  prejudiced  against  Lalage." 

"I'd  like  the  poor  child  to  start  fair,  anyhow,"  said  the 
Canon,  "whatever  happens  later  on." 

We  unpacked  a  good  many  of  Lalage's  clothes  and 
came  on  the  second  number  of  the  Anti-Cat.  Lalage 
took  possession  of  it  and  turned  over  the  pages,  while 
the  Canon  and  I  refolded  a  blue  serge  dress  and  wedged 
it  into  its  place  with  boots. 

"Here  you  are,"  said  Lalage,  when  I  had  finished  tug- 
ging at  the  straps.  "'Sneaking,  Second  Example.  The 
Latest  Move  of  Cattersby.  Such  a  move!  A  dis- 
grace to  any  properly  run  society,  a  further  disgrace  to 
the  already  disgraceful  tactics  of  the  Cat!  How  even 
that  base  enemy  could  do  such  a  thing  is  more  than  we 
honourable  citizens  can  understand."1 

"The  other  honourable  citizen,"  I  said,  "is  Tom 
Kitterick,  I  suppose." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  37 

"No,"  said  Lalage.  "There  was  only  me,  but  that's 
the  way  editors  always  talk.  Father  told  me  so  once. 
—  'Yet  she  did  it.  She  sneaked.  Yes,  sneaked  to  the 
grown-up  society,  complained,  as  the  now  extinct  Tommy 
used  to  do." 

"The  allusion,"  I  said,  "escapes  me.  Who  was  the 
now  extinct  Tommy?" 

"The  one  before  the  Cat,"  said  Lalage. 

"Her  name,"  said  the  Canon  feebly,  "was  Miss 
Thomas.  She  did  complain  a  good  deal  about  Lalage 
during  the  six  weeks  she  was  with  us." 

"Is  that  the  whole  of  the  article?"  I  asked.  "It's 
very  short." 

"There  was  nothing  more  to  say,"  said  Lalage;  "so 
what  was  the  good  of  going  on?" 

"I  thought,"  I  said,  "and  hoped  that  there  might  have 
been  something  in  it  about  the  effect  the  stuff  had 
on  Tom  Kitterick.  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  out 
anything  about  that." 

"It  didn't  do  much  to  Tom  Kitterick,"  said  Lalage. 
"He  was  just  as  turkey  eggy  afterward  as  he  was  before. 
It  didn't  even  smart,  though  I  rubbed  it  in  for  nearly 
half  an  hour,  and  Tom  Kitterick  said  I'd  have  the  skin 
off  his  face,  which  just  shows  the  silly  sort  of  stuff  it  was. 
Not  that  I'd  expect  the  Cat  to  have  anything  else  except 
silly  stuff.  That's  the  kind  she  is.  Anybody  would 
know  it  by  simply  looking  at  her.  Father,  I  don't 
believe  you've  got  my  ticket.  Hadn't  you  better  go  and 
see  about  it?" 

The  Canon  went  in  search  of  the  station  master  and 
found  him  at  last  digging  potatoes  in  a  plot  of  ground 


38  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

beyond  the  signal  box.  It  took  some  time  to  persuade 
him  to  part  with  anything  so  valuable  as  a  ticket  to 
Dublin. 

"Lalage,"  I  said,  while  the  Canon  was  arguing  with 
the  station  master,  "  I  want  you  to  write  to  me  from  school 
and  tell  me  how  you  are  getting  on." 

"I  have  a  lot  of  letters  to  write,"  she  said.  "I'm  not 
sure  I  can  write  to  you." 

"Try.  I  particularly  want  to  know  what  Miss  Pet- 
tigrew  thinks  of  your  English  composition.  I  should 
mark  you  high  for  it  myself." 

"I  have  to  write  to  father  every  week,  and  I've  promised 
to  answer  Tom  Kitterick  when  he  lets  me  know  how  the 
new  pigs  are  getting  on." 

"Still  you  might  manage  a  line  to  me  in  between. 
If  you  do  I'll  send  you  a  long  answer  or  a  picture  post- 
card, whichever  you  like." 

"I  can't  read  your  writing,"  said  Lalage,  "so  I'd  rather 
have  the  postcard." 

The  Canon  returned  just  as  the  train  steamed  in.  We 
put  Lalage  into  a  second-class  compartment.  Then  I 
slipped  away  and  gave  the  guard  half  a  crown,  charging 
him  to  look  after  Lalage  and  to  see  that  no  mischief 
happened  to  her  on  the  way  to  Dublin.  To  my  surprise 
he  was  unwilling  to  receive  the  tip.  He  told  me  that 
the  Canon  had  already  given  him  two  shillings  and  he 
seemed  to  think  that  he  was  being  overpaid  for  a  simple, 
not  very  onerous,  duty.  I  pressed  my  half  crown  into 
his  hand  and  assured  him  that  before  he  got  to  Dublin 
he  would,  if  he  really  looked  after  Lalage,  have  earned 
more  than  four  and  sixpence. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  39 

"In  fact,"  I  said,  "four  and  sixpence  won't  be  nearly 
enough  to  compensate  you  for  the  amount  of  worry  and 
anxiety  you  will  go  through.  You  must  allow  me  to 
add  another  half  crown  and  make  seven  shillings  of  it." 

The  man  was  a  good  deal  surprised  and  seemed  inclined 
to  protest. 

"You  needn't  hesitate,"  I  said.  "I  wouldn't  take  on 
the  job  myself  for  double  the  money." 

"It  could  be,"  said  the  guard  pocketing  my  second 
half  crown,  "that  the  young  lady  might  be  for  getting 
out  at  the  wrong  station.  There's  some  of  them  does." 

"Nothing  so  simple  as  that,"  I  said.  "Any  ordinary 
young  lady  would  get  out  at  a  wrong  station,  and  a  couple 
of  shillings  would  be  plenty  to  offer  you  for  chasing  her 
in  again.  This  one " 

I  hesitated,  for  I  really  did  not  know  what  Lalage  was 
likely  to  do. 

"I'll  lock  the  door  on  her,  anyway,"  said  the 
guard. 

"You  may,  but  don't  flatter  yourself  that  you'll  have 
her  safe  then.  The  only  thing  you  can  calculate  on  in 
the  case  of  this  particular  young  lady  is  that  whatever 
she  does  will  be  something  that  you  couldn't  possibly 
guess  beforehand.  Not  that  there's  any  real  harm  in 
her.  She's  simply  possessed  of  an  adventurous  spirit 
and  striking  originality.  Good-bye." 

I  had  just  time  to  shake  hands  with  Lalage  before 
the  train  started.  She  waved  her  pocket  handkerchief 
cheerily  to  us  as  we  stood  together  on  the  platform.  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  guard's  face  while  his  van  swept 
past  us.  It  wore  a  set  expression,  like  that  of  a  man 


40  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

determined  in  the  cause  of  duty  to  go  steadily  forward 
into  the  unknown  facing  dread  things  bravely.  I  was 
satisfied  that  I  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  him  and 
I  felt  sorry  that  I  had  not  made  up  his  tip  to  an  even  half 
sovereign. 

The  Canon  was  depressed  as  we  drove  home  together. 
I  felt  it  my  duty  to  cheer  him  up  as  much  as  I  could. 

" After  all,"  I  said,  "you've  nothing  to  reproach  your- 
self with.  Miss  Battersby  has  got  another  situation. 
She'll  be  far  happier  at  Thormanby's  than  she  ever 
could  have  been  with  you.  His  girls  are  thoroughly 
well  brought  up." 

"She  was  very  fond  of  Lalage,"  said  the  Canon. 

"Still,  they  didn't  suit  each  other.  Miss  Battersby 
will  get  over  any  feeling  of  regret  she  may  have  at  first. 
She'll  be  far  more  at  home  with  quiet,  well-tamed  girls 
like  Thormanby's. 

The  Canon  was  not  listening  to  me.  I  judged  from 
this  that  it  was  not  anxiety  about  Miss  Battersby's 
future  that  was  preying  on  his  mind.  I  tried  again. 

"If  it's  the  thought  of  that  bottle  of  glycerine  and 
cucumber  which  is  worrying  you,"  I  said,  "don't  let  it. 
Send  her  another.  Send  her  two.  Make  Tom  Kitterick 
carry  them  over  to  Thormanby  Park  and  present  them 
on  bended  knee,  clad  only  in  his  shirt  and  with  a  halter 
round  his  neck." 

The  Canon's  gloom  merely  deepened. 

"I  don't  think,"  I  said,  "that  you  need  fret  about 
Miss  Pettigrew.  After  all,  it's  her  job.  She  must  meet 
plenty  of  high-spirited  girls." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  her,"  said  the  Canon. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  41 

Then  he  began  to  murmur  to  himself  and  I  was  barely 
able,  by  leaning  over  toward  him,  to  catch  the  quotation. 

"Miserarum  est  neque  amori  dare  ludem.    .    .    ." 

He  saw  that  I  was  listening  and  lapsed  into  English. 
"There's  a  translation  of  that  ode,"  he  said,  "into 
something  quite  like  the  original  metre": 

" '  How  unhappy  is  the  maiden  who  with  Cupid  may  not  play, 
And  who  may  not  touch  the  wine  cup,  but  must  listen  all  the  day 
To  an  uncle  and  the  scourging  of  his  tongue ' " 

"Come  now,  Canon,"  I  said.  "Lalage  is  a  precocious 
child,  I  know.  But  she  won't  feel  those  particular  de- 
privations yet  awhile.  She  didn't  try  to  flirt  with  Tom 
Kitterick,  did  she?" 

"It's  all  the  same  thing  really,"  said  the  Canon.  "The 
confinement  and  discipline  will  be  just  as  severe  on  her 
as  they  were  on  that  girl  of  Horace's,  though,  of  course, 
they  will  take  a  different  form.  She's  been  accustomed 
to  a  good  deal  of  freedom  and  independence." 

"According  to  the  Archdeacon,"  I  said,  "to  more 
than  was  good  for  her." 

"I  couldn't  help  that." 

"No,  you  couldn't.  Nobody  could.  My  mother  thinks 
Miss  Pettigrew  may,  but  I  don't  believe  it  myself.  La- 
lage will  break  out  all  right  as  soon  as  she  gets  a 
chance." 

For  the  first  time  since  we  left  the  station  the  Canon 
smiled  and  seemed  a  little  more  cheerful. 

"If  I  thought  that "  he  said. 


42  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"You  may  be  perfectly  sure  of  it,  but  I  don't  think 
you  ought  actually  to  hope  it.  The  Archdeacon  is  a 
very  wise  man  and  I'm  sure  that,  if  he  contemplates  the 
possibility  at  all,  he  fears  it." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  the  Canon,  sighing  again.  "It 
will  all  be  a  great  change  for  Lalage,  whatever  happens." 


CHAPTER  IV 

T  FEARED  at  first  that  Lalage  was  not  going  to  write 
•*•  to  me.  Nearly  three  weeks  passed  before  I  got  a 
letter  from  her  and  I  was  inclined  to  blame  her  for  neglect 
of  an  old  friend.  When  the  letter  did  arrive  I  understood 
that  I  had  no  right  to  be  angry.  Lalage  was  better  than 
I  had  dared  to  hope.  She  kept  a  kind  of  irregular  diary 
in  an  exercise  book  and  sent  it  to  me.  It  was,  like  all 
diaries,  in  disconnected  paragraphs,  evidently  written 
down  when  the  mood  for  recording  experiences  was  on 
Lalage.  There  were  no  dates  attached,  but  the  first 
entry  must,  I  think,  embody  the  result  of  a  very  early 
series  of  impressions.  One,  at  least,  of  the  opinions 
expressed  in  it  was  modified  later  on: 

"When  I  arrived  I  was  hustled  into  a  room  by  a  small 
fat  lady  dressed  in  purple;  not  the  old  Pet,  which  is 
what  we  call  Miss  Pettigrew.  I  waited  for  ten  minutes. 
Then  I  was  hustled  upstairs  by  the  same  purple-clothed 
lady,  and  shown  a  locker,  Number  73.  There  I  stayed 
for  about  five  minutes  and  then  was  driven  down  again 
by  the  purple-clothed  lady  and  pushed  into  the  same 
room  as  I  had  been  before.  Again  I  was  herded  off 
(after  about  five  minutes),  needless  to  say  by  the  purple- 
robed  woman,  and  shoved  into  a  waiting-room." 

Lalage's  patience  must  by  this  time  have  been  wearing 

43 


44  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

thin.     It  is  noticeable  that  the  "lady"  had  become  a 
mere  "woman"  in  the  last  sentence. 

"  There  I  stayed  twenty  minutes,  a  long  twenty  minutes, 
and  lo !  there  came  the  purple-dressed  woman  unto  me  and 
bore  me  away  to  be  examined.  She  slung  me  at  the 
mercy  of  a  mistress  who  gave  me  a  desk  (with  a  chair 
clamped  to  the  ground)  paper,  pen  and  examination 
papers.  Could  you  answer  the  following:  Who  suc- 
ceeded (a)  Stephen,  (b)  John,  (c)  Edward  III?  I  said 
to  the  old  Pet,  'This  is  all  rotten.'  (By  the  way,  I 
had  been  sent  off  to  her  when  I  had  done.)  And  she 
replied,  'Oh,  that's  not  at  all  a  nice  word  for  a  young 
lady  to  use.  We  can't  have  that  here.'  She's  rather 
an  ass. 

"I  was  made  to  feel  exactly  like  Lady  Macbeth  to-day 
at  algebra.  When  Miss  Campbell  turned  her  back, 
another  girl  dared  me  to  put  my  pen  in  Miss  Campbell's 
red  ink.  (This  is  strictly  against  the  law.)  So  of  course 
I  did.  But  instead  of  mopping  it  straight  off  like  a  fool 
I  displayed  it  with  pride.  Consequently  it  fell  all  over 
my  hands.  Miss  Campbell  was  just  coming  up  so  I  had 
to  hide  them  murmuring  'Out,  damned  spot!'  etc. 
Luckily  she  didn't  see,  for  she's  just  the  sort  that  would 
report  you  like  a  shot." 

"The  names  of  suburban  houses  are  awfully  funny." 

This  entry  evidently  followed  one  of  Lalage's  first  out- 
ings. I  felt  acutely  the  contrast  between  the  pleasant 
chestnut  tree,  the  fragrant  sty,  and  the  paved  footways 
along  which  she  is  now  condemned  to  tramp. 

"An  awful,  staring,  backgardenly  looking  house,  with 
muslin  curtains,  frilly  and  a  jumpy  looking  pattern  on 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  45 

the  side  is  called  'Sans  Souci!'  One  ass  calls  his  stable 
Cliftonville,  although  I  bet  he's  never  seen  Clifton. 
Ardenbough  and  Honeysuckle  Arbour  are  common. 

"To-day  we  heard  a  frightful  row  in  the  corridor, 
laughing,  talking,  and  trampling.  Miss  Campbell  half 
rose  and  said:  'I  must  put  a  stop  to  this.'  Before  she 
could,  the  door  was  flung  open  and  in  bounced  —  the 
old  Pet  and  three  visitors !  After  a  moment's  conversa- 
tion with  Miss  Campbell  she  retired,  banging  the  door 
in  a  way  she'd  expel  any  one  else  for. 

"This  letter  is  lasting  on.  Hilda  gets  sixpence  every 
time  she  is  top,  threepence  second,  and  twopence  third, 
but  does  not  get  any  regular  pocket  money.  She's  very 
rich  at  present,  as  she's  been  top  three  times  running. 
How  I'd  like  to  play  Rugby  football.  It  looks  enticing 
to  be  let  knock  a  person  down.  It  is  a  pity  girls  can't, 
only  lucky  boys.  I  wonder  why  I  feel  poorer  here  than 
at  home  and  yet  have  more  money." 

The  Canon  had,  I  am  sure,  provided  Lalage  with  a 
suitable  amount  of  pocket  money.  I  myself  gave  her 
five  shillings  the  day  before  she  left  home.  She  ought 
not  to  feel  poor.  Compared  to  Hilda,  who  has  one-and- 
sixpence,  earned  in  the  sweat  of  her  brow,  Lalage  must 
seem  a  millionaire. 

"Do  you  know  the  kind  of  person  who  you  hate  and 
yet  can't  help  loving  although  you  are  afraid  of  her? 
That  is  the  sort  the  old  Pet  is.  As  I  was  going  into  school 
to-day  she  was  standing  at  the  door.  The  beast  promptly 
spotted  the  fact  that  I  had  no  hair  ribbon,  and  remarked 
in  awe-inspiring  tones,  'Lalage,  where  is  your  hair  ribbon?' 
'Forgot  it,'  said  I,  and  took  a  lecture  with  a  polite  grin. 
The  old  Pet  may  be  a  beast,  but  is  not  an  ass.  I  hope 
the  weather  will  improve  soon. 


46  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  I  am  of  a  persevering  nature 
or  I  would  not  continue  to  write  this  letter.  I  fear  it 
is  so  long  that  you'll  never  get  through  it,  though  I  did 
not  know  it  until  now.  I  know  a  girl  who  is  learning 
Greek.  She's  awful,  and  so  clever.  She  is  in  my  Latin 
class  and  prime  favourite  with  Carpy. 

"Your  affect. 

"LALAGE." 

Carpy  cannot  be  the  real- name  of  the  lady  who  teaches 
Latin  to  Lalage  and  Greek  to  the  awful  girl.  I  have 
tried  to  reconstruct  her  name  from  its  corruption,  but 
have  hitherto  failed  to  satisfy  myself.  She  may  be  a 
Miss  Chartres.  Perhaps  she  is  the  purple-gowned  wom- 
an who  hustled,  pushed,  herded  and  slung  Lalage  on 
the  day  of  her  arrival.  She  cannot,  in  any  case,  be 
identified  with  the  mathematician  who  uses  red  ink. 
No  ingenuity  in  nicknaming  could  extract  Carpy  from 
Campbell. 

There  was,  in  spite  of  its  great  length,  a  postscript  to 
Lalage's  letter.  There  was  also  an  enclosure. 

"P.  S.  What  does  'flippant'  mean?  The  old  Pet  said 
my  comp.  was  flippant,  and  I  don't  know  what  that  is. 
It  was  my  first  comp." 

I  unfolded  the  "comp."  and  read  it  carefully: 

COMPOSITION  ON  POLITENESS   BY   LALAGE   BERESFORD 

Politeness  is  a  very  difficult  art  to  acquire.  It  is 
altogether  an  acquired  art,  for  no  one  is  polite  when  he 
is  born.  Some  sorts  of  politeness  are  sensible  and  they 
are  comparatively  easy  to  learn.  Begging  a  person's 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  47 

pardon  when  we  tread  on  their  toes  is  polite  and  is  a 
reasonable  thing  to  do.  But  there  are  many  silly  things 
to  learn  before  we  become  really  polite.  For  instance,  a 
boy  must  learn  to  open  the  door  for  ladies  and  walk 
after  them  always.  This  does  the  ladies  no  good  and  is 
sometimes  very  inconvenient  for  the  boy.  He  may  be 
in  a  hurry.  It  is  not  polite  for  a  girl  to  sit  with  her  legs 
crossed  and  her  head  leaning  aback  on  her  hands.  This 
is  a  position  which  does  no  one  any  harm,  so  it  is  absurd 
that  it  should  be  considered  unpolite.  In  old  days  polite- 
ness was  carried  to  much  greater  extremities  than  it  is 
now.  In  the  days  when  they  used  to  fight  duels,  when 
two  gentlemen  felt  really  annoyed,  instead  of  one  of  them 
saying  to  the  other,  "Go  and  get  your  sword  and  let  me 
kill  you,"  and  the  other  replying,  "All  right,  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  kill  a  man  whom  I  detest,"  they  demanded 
"satisfaction"  of  each  other  in  most  polite  tones  and 
parted  with  low  bows  and  polite,  though  sneering,  smiles. 
Politeness  is  a  very  good  thing  in  moderation,  but  not 
if  carried  too  far. 

Skeat  traces  the  word  "flippant"  back  (through  "flip" 
and  the  old  Northumbrian  present  participle  ending 
"an"  to  the  Icelandic  "fleipa,"  which  means  to  prattle. 
I  found  this  out  in  a  dictionary  and  copied  it  down 
for  Lalage.  Miss  Pettigrew  was  not,  I  think,  justified 
in  applying  the  word,  supposing  that  she  used  it  in 
its  strict  etymological  sense,  to  Lalage's  composition. 
There  was  more  in  the  essay  than  mere  prattle.  But 
Miss  Pettigrew  may  have  had  reasons  of  her  own,  reasons 
which  I  can  only  guess,  for  wishing  to  depreciate  this 
particular  essay.  It  is  quite  possible  that  she  was  herself 
the  person  who  told  Lalage  that  it  is  rude  for  a  girl  to 
sit  with  her  legs  crossed.  My  mother x  to  whom  I  showed 


48  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

the  composition  when  I  consulted  her  about  the  probable 
meaning  of  flippant,  refused  to  entertain  this  suggestion. 
She  knows  Miss  Pettigrew  and  does  not  think  she  is  the 
kind  of  person  who  would  attach  excessive  importance  to 
the  position  of  Lalage's  legs.  She  thinks  that  the  maxim 
referred  to  by  Lalage  —  there  evidently  was  a  maxim 
in  her  mind  when  she  wrote  —  must  have  fallen  from 
the  lips  of  Miss  Campbell,  the  mathematician,  Carpy, 
or  the  purple-gowned  woman.  If  she  is  right,  I  can  only 
suppose  that  Miss  Pettigrew  in  using  the  word  flippant 
meant  to  support  the  authority  of  her  subordinates  and 
to  snub  Lalage  for  attempting  to  rebel  against  time- 
honoured  tradition. 

I  walked  across  to  the  rectory  after  luncheon,  intending 
to  show  my  letter  and  the  composition  on  politeness  to 
the  Canon.  I  found  him  seriously  upset.  He  had  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Lalage,  and  he  had  also  enjoyed  a 
visit  from  the  Archdeacon.  He  was  ill-advised  in  showing 
the  letter  to  the  Archdeacon.  I  should  have  had  more 
sense.  I  suppose  he  thought  that,  dealing  as  it  did  almost 
entirely  with  religious  subjects,  it  was  likely  to  interest 
the  Archdeacon.  It  did  interest  him.  It  interested 
him  excessively,  to  an  extent  which  occasioned  a  good 
deal  of  trouble. 

"Dear  Father:  I  have  read  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
'Earthly  Paradise*  since  I  came  here.  It  is  an  awfully 
jolly  book.  ( 'Little  Folks'  is  Miss  Campbell's  idea  of 
literature  for  the  young;  but  that's  all  rot  of  course.) 
Who  wrote  the  Litany?  If  you  do  not  know  please 
ask  the  Archdeacon  when  you  see  him.  I've  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  some  of  it  is  very,  well  written.'*, 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  49 

"I  did  ask  the  Archdeacon,"  said  the  Canon,  looking 
up  from  the  letter,  "and  he  said  he'd  hunt  up  the  point 
when  he  went  home." 

"Lalage,"  I  said,  "has  quite  a  remarkable  feeling  for 
style.  See  the  way  she  writes  about  the  'Earthly  Para- 
dise.' It  must  be  the  way  you  brought  her  up  on  quo- 
tations from  Horace.  Miss  Campbell  hardly  appre- 
ciates her,  I'm  afraid.  But  of  course  you  can't  expect 
a  mathematician  to  rise  much  above  'Little  Folks'  in  the 
way  of  literature.  I  suppose  the  Archdeacon  was  greatly 
pleased  with  that  conundrum  about  the  Litany." 

"It  was  what  followed,"  said  the  Canon,  "which 
excited  him." 

He  began  to  read  again: 

"There  is  a  clergyman  who  comes  once  a  week  to  give 
us  a  scripture  lesson.  He  is  only  a  curate  and  looks 
very  shy.  We  had  a  most  exciting  time  with  him  yester- 
day. We  all  shied  paper  wads,  and  he  moved  nearly 
every  one  up  and  sent  one  girl  out  of  the  room." 

"He  can't,"  I  said,  "have  been  as  shy  as  he  looked. 
But  I'm  beginning  to  understand  why  the  Archdeacon 
was  shocked." 

"He  didn't  mind  that,"  said  the  Canon;  "at  least  not 
much." 

Lalage's  letter  went  on: 

"I  was  glad,  that  it  wasn't  me,  who  was  just  as  bad, 
that  he  didn't  what  he  calls  'make  an  example  of.' 
Even  that  didn't  calm  the  excited  class  and  he  said, 
'Next  person  who  laughs  will  be  reported  to  Miss 
Pettigrew.'  It  was  not  me,  but  the  girl  next  me,  Eileen 


50  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

Fraser.  I  was  the  innocent  cause  of  the  offence.  (A 
mere  wink  at  Hilda  when  I  had  my  belt  round  her  neck.) 
She  was  not,  however,  reported,  even  to  Carpy." 

"By  the  way,"  I  said,  "who  is  Carpy?  She  comes 
into  my  letter  too." 

The  Canon  did  not  know  and  seemed  uninterested  in 
the  point.  He  went  on  reading: 

"Another  day  he  committed  an  unforgivable  offence. 
He  said  to  us,  'You  must  stand  up  when  quoting  the 
words  of  the  Bible."1 

"Isn't  that  always  considered  essential?"  I  asked. 
"The  unforgivable  offence,"  said  the  Canon,  "is  in 
the  next  sentence." 

"But  he  sat  with  his  feet  on  the  fender,  the  pig.  I 
do  hate  that  sort.  Even  when  Hilda  said  that  Ananias 
told  a  lie  and  was  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt  he  did  not 
laugh.  He  said  he'd  turn  one  girl  out  of  the  room  to-day 
for  nothing  but  dropping  her  pen." 

"The  Archdeacon,"  I  said,  "could  of  course  sympathize 
with  that  curate." 

"It  wasn't  that  which  made  him  really  angry,"  said 
the  Canon,  "although  he  didn't  like  it." 

"There  must  be  something  pretty  bad  coming,  if  it's 
worse  than  that." 

The  Canon  sighed  heavily  and  went  on  reading 

"Hilda  taught  me  the  two-step  at  rec.  Another  girl 
(also  in  my  class  and  jolly  nice)  played  them." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  51 

The  Canon  looked  up  with  a  puzzled  expression.  I 
explained  as  well  as  I  could. 

"The  two-step,"  I  said,  "is  a  dance.  What  the  jolly, 
nice  girl  played  is  a  little  obscure,  but  I  think  it  must  have 
been  tunes  suitable  to  the  performance  of  the  two-step. 
'Rec/  is  a  shortened  form  of  recreation.  Lalage  is 
fond  of  these  contractions.  She  writes  to  me  about  her 
'comp.' " 

The  canon  read: 

"On  the  other  days,  the  old  Pet  takes  us  herself  at 
Scrip:  We  were  at  Genesis,  and  she  read  out,  'In 
the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the  earth/ 
'But  of  course  you  all  know  He  didn't.  Modern  science 

teaches  us '  Then  she  went  on  with  a  lot  of  rot  about 

gases  and  forces  and  nebulous  things." 

"The  Archdeacon,"  said  the  Canon,  "is  going  to  write 
to  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin  about  it.  He  says  that  kind 
of  teaching  ought  not  to  be  allowed." 

"We  must  head  him  off  somehow,"  I  said,  "if  he  really 
means  it.  But  he  hardly  can.  I  don't  expect  he'll  run 
into  extremes.  He  certainly  won't  without  taking  ad- 
vice. The  Archdeacon  isn't  a  man  to  do  anything  def- 
inite in  a  hurry.  He's  told  me  over  and  over  again  that 
he  deprecates  precipitancy  of  action." 

"He  feels  very  strongly  about  the  Higher  Criticism. 
Very  strongly  indeed.  He  says  it's  poisoning  the  wells 
of  religion  in  the  home." 

"Last  time  he  lunched  with  us  he  said  it  was  sapping 
the  foundations.  Still  I  scarcely  think  he'll  want  to 
institute  a  heresy  prosecution  against  Miss  Pettigrew." 


52  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"  I'm  very  much  afraid  —  he  seemed  most  deter- 
mined   " 

"We  must  switch  him  off  on  to  some  other  track," 
I  said.  "If  you  funk  tackling  him " 

"I  did  my  best." 

"I  suppose  that  I'd  better  try  him.  It's  a  nuisance. 
I  hate  arguing  with  archdeacons;  but  of  course  we  can't 
have  Lalage  put  into  a  witness  box  and  ballyragged  by 
archbishops  and  people  of  that  kind,  and  she'd  be  the 
only  available  witness.  Hilda  can't  be  in  a  position  to 
give  a  clear  account  of  what  happened,  considering  that 
she  was  half  strangled  by  Lalage's  belt  at  the  time." 

"It  was  at  the  curate's  class  that  the  belt  incident 
occurred,"  said  the  Canon,  "just  after  they  had  been 
throwing  paper  wads." 

"So  it  was.  All  the  same  I  don't  think  Hilda  would 
be  much  use  as  a  witness.  The  memory  of  that  choking 
would  be  constantly  with  her  and  would  render  every 
scripture  lesson  a  confused  nightmare  for  months 
afterward.  The  other  girls  would  probably  lose  their 
heads.  It's  all  well  enough  to  pelt  curates  with  paper 
wads.  Any  one  could  do  that.  It's  quite  a  different 
thing  to  stand  up  before  an  ecclesiastical  court  and 
answer  a  string  of  questions  about  nebulous  things. 
That  Archbishop  will  find  himself  relying  entirely  on 
Lalage  to  prove  the  Archdeacon's  case,  which  won't  be 
a  nice  position  for  her.  I'll  go  home  now  and  drive  over 
at  once  to  see  the  Archdeacon." 

"Do,"  said  the  Canon.  "I'd  go  with  you  only  I 
hate  this  kind  of  fuss.  Some  men  like  it.  The  Arch- 
deacon, for  instance.  Curious,  isn't  it,  how  differently 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  53 

we're  made,  though  we  all  look  very  much  alike  from  the 
outside.  *  Sunt  quos  curriculo ' ' 

I  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  end  of  the  quotation. 

I  approached  the  Archdeacon  hopefully,  relying,  I 
confess,  less  on  the  intrinsic  weight  of  the  arguments  I 
meant  to  use  than  on  the  respect  which  I  knew  the 
Archdeacon  entertained  for  my  position  in  the  county. 
My  mother  is  the  sister  of  the  present  Lord  Thormanby, 
a  fact  which  by  itself  predisposes  the  Archdeacon  in  my 
favour.  My  father  was  a  distinguished  soldier.  My 
grandfather  was  a  still  more  distinguished  soldier,  and 
there  are  pictures  of  his  most  successful  battle  hanging  in 
my  dining-room.  The  Archdeacon  has  often  seen  them 
and  I  am  sure  appreciates  them.  I  am  also,  for  an 
Irish  landlord,  a  well-off  man.  I  might,  so  I  believed, 
have  trusted  entirely  to  these  facts  to  persuade  the 
Archdeacon  to  give  up  the  idea  of  communicating  Miss 
Pettigrew's  lapse  into  heterodoxy  to  the  Archbishop. 
But  I  worked  out  a  couple  of  sound  arguments  as  well, 
and  I  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  that  I  produced  no 
effect  whatever  on  the  Archdeacon.  He  bluntly  refused 
to  modify  his  plan  of  action. 

I  quoted  to  him  the  proverb  which  warns  us  to  let 
sleeping  dogs  lie.  Under  any  ordinary  circumstances 
this  would  have  appealed  strongly  to  the  Archdeacon. 
It  was  just  the  kind  of  wisdom  by  which  he  guides  his 
life.  I  was  taken  aback  when  he  replied  that  Miss  Petti- 
grew,  so  far  from  being  a  sleeping  dog,  was  a  roaring 
lion.  A  moment  later  he  called  her  a  ravenous  even- 
ing wolf;  so  I  gave  up  my  proverb  as  useless.  I  then 
reminded  him  that  Lalage  was  evidently  quite  unaffected 


54  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

by  the  teaching  which  she  received,  had  in  fact  described 
modern  science  as  a  lot  of  rot.  The  Archdeacon  replied 
that,  though  Lalage  escaped,  others  might  be  affected; 
and  that  he  was  not  quite  sure  even  about  Lalage,  because 
insidious  poisons  are  most  to  be  feared  when  they  lie 
dormant  in  the  system  for  a  time. 

This  brought  me  to  the  end  of  my  two  arguments  and 
I  had  to  invent  another  on  the  spot.  I  am  always  rather 
ashamed  to  think  of  the  one  I  actually  used,  but  I  was 
driven  against  the  wall  and  the  position  seemed  almost 
desperate.  I  suggested  that  Lalage's  account  of  the 
scripture  lesson  was  in  all  probability  quite  unreliable. 

"You  know,  Archdeacon,"  I  said,  "that  all  little  girls 
are  horrid  liars." 

The  insinuation  that  Lalage  ever  spoke  anything  but 
the  truth  was  treacherous  and  abominable.  She  has 
her  faults;  but  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  in  my  mind 
that  her  description  of  Miss  Pettigrew's  scripture  lesson 
was  a  perfectly  honest  account  of  the  impression  it  pro- 
duced on  her  mind.  The  Archdeacon  hesitated,  and, 
hoping  for  the  best,  I  plunged  deeper. 

"Lalage  in  particular,"  I  said,  "is  absolutely  reckless 
about  the  truth." 

The  Archdeacon  shook  his  head  mournfully. 

"I  wish  I  could  think  so,"  he  said.  "I  should  be  glad, 
indeed,  if  I  could  take  your  view  of  the  matter;  but  in 
these  days  when  the  Higher  Criticism  is  invading  our 
pulpits  and  our  school  rooms " 

His  voice  faded  away  into  the  melancholy  silence  and 
he  continued  shaking  his  head. 

This  shows  how  much  more  important  dogmatic  truth 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  55 

is  than  the  ordinary  everyday  correspondence  between 
statement  and  fact.  To  the  Archdeacon  a  lie  of  Lalage's 
would  have  been  a  minor  evil  in  every  way  preferable, 
if  it  came  to  a  choice  between  the  two,  to  Miss  Petti- 
grew's  unorthodox  interpretation  of  the  Mosaic  narrative. 
I  could  argue  the  matter  no  more  and  fell  back  upon  a 
last  plan. 

"Archdeacon,"  I  said,  "come  out  and  dine  with  us 
to-night.  Talk  the  whole  business  over  with  my  mother 
before  you  take  any  definite  action." 

The  Archdeacon  agreed  to  do  this.  I  went  home 
at  once  and  prepared  my  mother  for  the  conflict. 

"You  must  use  all  your  influence,"  I  said.  "It  is  a 
most  serious  business." 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  my  mother,  "it's  quite  the  most 
ridiculous  storm  in  a  tea  cup  of  which  I've  ever  heard." 

"No,"  I  said  solemnly,  "it's  not.  If  the  Archdeacon 
makes  his  charge  formally  the  Archbishop  will  be  obliged 
to  take  it  up.  Miss  Pettigrew  will  be  hauled  up  before 
him " 

"Miss  Pettigrew,"  said  my  mother,  "would  simply 
laugh.  She's  not  in  the  very  least  the  sort  of  worn- 
an  ~~~~~ 

"I  know.  She's  one  of  those  people  that  you  hate 
awfully  and  yet  can't  help  loving  though  you  are  rather 
afraid  of  her.  It's  for  her  sake  more  than  Lalage's  that 
I'm  asking  you  to  interfere." 

"If  I  interfere  at  all  it  will  be  for  the  Archdeacon's 
sake.  It's  a  pity  to  allow  him  to  make  a  fool  of  himself." 

I  do  not  know  what  line  my  mother  actually  took 
with  the  Archdeacon.  I  left  them  together  after  dinner 


56  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

and  when  the  time  came  for  saying  good-night  I  found  that 
the  Archdeacon  had  been  persuaded  not  to  attempt  a 
formal  protest  against  Miss  Pettigrew's  teaching.  He 
has  never,  however,  trusted  her  since  then  and  he  still 
shakes  his  head  doubtfully  at  the  mention  of  her  name. 

I  wrote  to  Lalage  next  day  and  told  her  not  to  send 
home  any  more  accounts  of  scripture  lessons.  English 
compositions,  I  said,  we  should  be  glad  to  receive.  Latin 
exercises  would  always  be  welcome,  and  algebra  sums, 
especially  if  worked  in  Miss  Campbell's  red  ink,  would  be 
regarded  as  treasured  possessions. 

"All  letters,"  I  added,  "suspected  of  containing  eccle- 
siastical news  of  any  kind  will  be  returned  to  you 
unopened." 

I  also  called  on  the  Canon  and  spoke  plainly  to  him 
about  the  danger  and  folly  of  showing  letters  to  the 
Archdeacon. 

"I  was  wrong,"  said  the  Canon  apologetically.  "I 
can  see  now  that  I  was  wrong,  but  I  thought  at  the  time 
that  he'd  enjoy  the  joke." 

"You  ought,"  said  I  severely,  "to  have  had  more 
sense.  The  Archdeacon  expects  to  be  a  bishop  some  day. 
He  can't  afford  to  enjoy  jokes  of  that  kind.  By  the  way, 
did  he  tell  you  who  wrote  the  Litany?" 


CHAPTER  V 

TT  MUST  have  been  about  three  weeks  after  the 
•*•  pacification  of  the  Archdeacon  by  my  mother  that 
a  crisis  occurred  in  my  affairs.  I  am  not  a  person  of  any 
importance,  although  I  shall  be,  I  fear,  some  day;  and 
my  affairs  up  to  the  present  are  not  particularly  interest- 
ing even  to  myself.  I  record  the  crisis  because  it  ex- 
plains the  fact  that  I  lost  touch  with  Lalage  for  nearly 
four  years  and  know  little  or  nothing  about  her  develop- 
ment during  that  time.  I  wish  I  knew  more.  Some  day, 
when  I  have  a  little  leisure,  I  mean  to  have  a  long  talk 
with  Miss  Pettigrew.  She  saw  more  of  Lalage  in  those 
days  than  any  one  else  did,  and  I  think  she  must  have 
some  very  interesting,  perhaps  exciting,  things  to  tell. 
To  a  sympathetic  listener  Miss  Pettigrew  would  talk 
freely.  She  has  a  sense  of  humour,  and  like  all  people 
who  are  capable  of  laughing  themselves,  takes  a  pleasure 
in  telling  good  stories. 

It  was  my  uncle,  Lord  Thormanby,  who  was  mainly 
responsible  for  my  private  crisis.  My  mother,  I  daresay, 
goaded  him  on;  but  he  has  always  taken  the  credit  for 
arranging  that  I  should  join  the  British  embassy  in  Lisbon 
as  a  kind  of  unpaid  attache.  My  uncle  used  his  private 
and  political  influence  to  secure  this  desirable  post  for 
me.  I  do  not  know  exactly  whom  he  worried.  Perhaps 
it  was  a  sympathetic  Prime  Minister,  perhaps  the  Ambas- 

57 


58  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

sador  himself,  a  nobleman  distantly  connected  with 
Lady  Thormanby.  At  all  events,  the  thing  was  done 
and  Thormanby  was  enormously  proud  of  the  achieve- 
ment. He  gave  me  a  short  lecture  by  way  of  a  send-off, 
in  which  he  dwelt  a  good  deal  on  his  own  interest  in  my 
future  and  told  me  that  my  appointment  might  lead  on 
to  something  big.  It  has  not  done  so,  up  to  the  present, 
but  that  I  daresay  is  my  own  fault. 

The  Canon,  who  seemed  sorry  to  say  good-bye  to  me, 
gave  me  a  present  of  an  English  translation  of  the  works 
of  the  philosopher  Epictetus,  with  several  passages, 
favourites  of  his  own,  marked  in  red  ink.  One  of  these 
I  used  frequently  to  read  and  still  think  about  occasion- 
ally, not  because  I  have  the  slightest  intention  of  trying 
to  live  in  the  spirit  of  it,  but  because  it  always  reminds 
me  of  the  Canon  himself,  and  so  makes  me  smile. 
"Is  a  little  of  your  oil  spilt,  or  a  little  wine  stolen?"  said 
this  philosopher.  "Then  say  to  yourself:  'For  so  much 
peace  is  bought.  This  is  the  price  of  tranquillity.'  For 
nothing  can  be  gained  without  paying  for  it."  It  is  by 
this  wisdom  that  the  man  who  happened  to  be  Lalage's 
father  was  able  to  live  without  worrying  himself  into 
frequent  fevers. 

The  Archdeacon  dined  with  us  a  short  time  before 
I  left  home  and  gave  me  a  very  fine  valedictory  address. 
He  said  that  I  was  about  to  follow  the  example  of  my 
ancestors  and  devote  myself  to  the  service  of  my  country. 
He  had  every  hope  that  I  would  acquit  myself  as  nobly 
as  they  did.  This  was  a  very  affecting  thing  to  say, 
particularly  in  our  dining-room,  with  the  pictures  of 
my  grandfather's  battles  hanging  round  the  walls.  I 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  59 

looked  at  them  while  he  spoke,  but  I  did  not  venture  to 
look  at  my  mother.  Her  eyes  have  a  way  of  twinkling 
when  the  Archdeacon  is  at  his  best  which  always  upsets 
me.  The  Archdeacon,  his  face  still  raised  toward  the 
large  battle  picture,  added  that  there  is  nothing  finer 
than  the  service  of  one's  country,  nothing  more  inspiring 
for  a  man  and  nothing  more  likely  to  lead  to  fame.  I 
felt  at  the  time  that  this  is  very  likely  to  be  true  in  the 
case  of  any  one  who  has  a  country  to  serve.  I,  unfor- 
tunately, have  none.  The  recent  developments  of  Irish 
life,  the  revivals  of  various  kinds,  the  books  which  people 
keep  on  writing,  and  the  general  atmosphere  of  the 
country  have  robbed  me  and  others  like  me  of  the  belief, 
held  comfortably  by  our  fathers,  that  we  are  Englishmen. 
On  the  other  hand,  nobody,  least  of  all  the  patriotic 
politicians  who  make  speeches,  will  admit  that  we  are 
Irish.  We  are  thus,  without  any  fault  of  our  own,  left 
poised  in  a  state  of  quivering  uncertainty  like  the  poor 
Samaritans  whom  the  Jews  despised  as  Gentiles  and  the 
Gentiles  did  not  like  because  they  seemed  to  be  Jews. 
I  found  it  difficult,  while  I  listened  to  the  Archdeacon, 
to  decide  what  country  had  a  claim  on  me  for  service. 
Perhaps  Portugal  —  I  was  going  to  Lisbon  —  would 
mark  me  for  her  own. 

For  more  than  three  years  I  saw  nothing  of  Lalage. 
My  holidays,  snatched  Yfith  difficulty  from  a  press  of 
ridiculously  unimportant  duties,  never  corresponded 
with  hers.  I  heard  very  little  of  her.  The  Canon 
never  wrote  to  me  at  all  about  Lalage  or  anything  else. 
My  mother  merely  chronicled  her  scholastic  successes, 
which  included  several  prizes  for  English  composition. 


60  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

The  one  really  interesting  piece  of  information  which 
I  got  about  her  came,  curiously  enough,  from  the  Arch- 
deacon. He  wrote  to  me  for  a  subscription  to  a  fund  for 
something,  rebuilding  the  bishop's  palace  I  think.  At 
the  end  of  his  letter  he  mentioned  an  incident  in  Lalage's 
career  which  he  described  as  deplorable.  It  appeared 
that  a  clergyman,  a  man  of  some  eminence  according  to 
the  Archdeacon  and  so,  presumably,  not  the  original  curate 
had  set  an  examination  paper  intended  to  test  the 
religious  knowledge  of  Lalage  and  others.  In  it  he 
quoted  some  words  from  one  of  St  Paul's  epistles:  "I 
keep  my  body  under  and  have  it  in  subjection,"  and 
asked  what  they  meant.  Lalage  submitted  a  novel 
interpretation.  "St.  Paul,"  she  wrote,  "is  here  speaking 
of  that  mystical  body  which  is  the  Church.  It  ought 
always  to  be  kept  under  and  had  in  subjection." 

As  a  diplomatist  —  I  suppose  I  am  a  diplomatist  of 
a  minor  kind  —  whose  lot  is  cast  among  the  Latin  peoples, 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Lalage's  interpretation  may 
one  day  be  universally  accepted  as  the  true  one  and  so 
honoured  with  the  crown  of  orthodoxy.  It  would  even 
to-day  strike  a  Portuguese  journalist  as  a  simple  state- 
ment of  an  obvious  truth.  The  Archdeacon  regarded  it 
as  deplorable,  and  I  understood  from  his  letter  that  the 
old  charge  of  flippancy  had  been  revived  against  Lalage. 
She  must,  I  suppose,  have  disliked  the  man  who  set  the 
examination  paper.  I  cannot  otherwise  account  for  the 
viciously  anti-clerical  spirit  of  her  answer. 

The  next  important  news  I  got  of  Lalage  reached  me 
in  the  spring  of  the  fourth  year  I  spent  in  the  service  of 
somebody  else's  country.  It  came  in  a  letter  from  Lalage 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  61 

herself,  written  on  paper  headed  by  the  letters  A.T.R.S. 
embossed  in  red. 
She  wrote: 

"You'll  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  entered  Trinity  College 
last  October  and  since  then  have  been  enjoying  'the 
spacious  times  of  great  Elizabeth.'  (Our  society,  girls',  is 
called  the  Elizabethan.  That's  the  point  of  the  quotation." 

I  glanced  at  the  head  of  the  paper,  but  failed  to  see  how 
A.T.R.S.  could  possibly  stand  for  Elizabethan  Society. 
Lalage's  letter  continued: 

"There  is  nothing  equal  to  a  university  life  for 
broadening  out  the  mind  and  enlarging  one's  horizon. 
I  have  just  founded  a  new  society  called  the  A.T.R.S., 
and  the  committee  (Hilda,  myself,  and  a  boy  called  Selby- 
Harrison,  who  got  a  junior  ex:  and  is  very  clever)  is  on 
the  lookout  for  members,  subscription  —  a  year,  paid  in 
advance,  or  life  members  one  pound.  Our  object  is  to 
check  by  every  legitimate  means  the  spread  of  tommyrot 
in  this  country  and  the  world  generally.  There  is  a  great 
deal  too  much  of  it  and  something  ought  to  be  done  to 
make  people  jolly  well  ashamed  of  themselves  before  it  is 
too  late.  If  the  matter  is  not  taken  in  hand  vigorously  the 
country  will  be  submerged  and  all  sensible  people  will  die." 

I  began  to  get  at  the  meaning  of  the  red  letters.  T.R. 
S.  plainly  stood  for  Tommy  Rot  Society.  The  preli- 
minary "A"  could  indicate  nothing  else  but  the  particle 
anti.  The  prospect  before  us,  if  Lalage  is  anything  of 
a  judge,  and  I  suppose  she  must  be,  is  sufficiently  serious 
to  justify  the  existence  of  the  society. 

"Each  member  of  the  committee  is  pledged  to  expose 
in  the  press  by  means  of  scathing  articles,  and  thus  hound 


62  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

out  of  public  life  any  man,  whatever  his  position,  who  is 
caught  talking  tommyrot.  This  will  be  done  anony- 
mously, so  as  to  establish  a  reign  of  terror  under  which  no 
man  of  any  eminence  will  feel  safe.  The  committee  intends 
to  begin  with  bishops  of  all  denominations.  I  thought 
this  would  interest  you  now  that  you  are  an  ambassador 
and  engaged  hi  fostering  international  complications." 

I  read  this  with  a  feeling  of  discomfort  similar  to  that 
of  the  gentleman  who  set  the  examination  paper  on  St. 
Paul's  epistles.  There  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  veiled 
threat  in  the  last  sentence.  The  committee  intended 
to  begin  with  bishops,  but  there  cannot  be  above  sixty 
or  seventy  bishops  in  Ireland  altogether,  even  including 
the  ex-moderators  of  the  Presbyterian  General  Assembly, 
not  more  than  a  hundred.  An  energetic  committee 
would  certainly  be  able  to  deal  with  them  in  less  than 
three  months.  Whose  turn  would  come  next?  Quite 
possibly  the  diplomatists.  I  do  not  particularly  object 
to  the  prospect  of  being  hounded  out  of  public  life  by 
means  of  scathing  articles;  but  I  feel  that  I  should  not  be 
the  only  victim.  Some  of  the  others  would  certainly 
resent  Lalage's  action  and  then  there  would  be  a  fuss. 
I  have  always  hated  fuss  of  any  kind. 

"Only  members  of  the  committee  are  expected  to 
take  part  in  the  active  progaganda  of  the  society.  Ordi- 
nary members  merely  subscribe.  I  am  sending  this 
appeal  to  father,  Lord  Thormanby,  Miss  Battersby,  who 
is  still  there,  and  the  Archdeacon,  as  well  as  to  you." 

I  breathed  a  sigh  of  great  relief.  Lalage  was  not 
threatening  my  colleagues  with  exposure  in  the  press. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  63 

She  was  merely  asking  for  a  subscription.  I  wrote  at 
once,  warmly  commending  the  objects  and  methods  of 
the  society.  I  enclosed  a  cheque  for  five  pounds  with  a 
request  that  I  should  be  enrolled  as  five  ordinary  life 
members.  I  underlined  the  word  ordinary,  and  added 
a  postscript  in  which  I  expressly  refused  to  act  on  the 
committee  even  if  elected.  Lalage  did  not  answer  this 
letter  or  acknowledge  the  cheque.  I  suppose  the  bishops 
kept  her  very  busy. 

In  August  that  year  I  met  Lalage  again  for  the  first 
time  since  I  had  seen  her  off  to  school  from  the  station 
at  Drumbo.  I  did  not  recognize  her  at  first.  Four 
years  make  a  great  difference  in  a  girl  when  she  is  passing 
from  the  age  of  fourteen  onward.  Besides,  I  was  not 
in  the  least  expecting  to  see  her. 

Mont  'Estoril  is  a  watering  place  near  the  mouth  of 
the  Tagus.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  some  misguided 
people  advertise  its  attractions  and  call  it  the  Riviera 
of  Portugal,  it  is  a  pleasant  spot  to  live  in  when  Lisbon 
is  very  hat.  There  are  several  excellent  hotels  there 
and  I  have  found  it  a  good  plan  to  migrate  from  the  cap- 
ital and  settle  down  in  Mont  'Estoril  for  June,  July  and 
August.  I  have  to  go  into  Lisbon  every  day,  but  this  is 
no  great  hardship,  for  there  is  a  convenient  train  service. 
I  usually  catch  what  the  Portuguese  call  a  train  of 
"great  velocity"  and  arrive  at  the  Caes  da  Sodre  railway 
station  a  few  minutes  after  eleven  o'clock.  From  that 
I  go,  partly  on  foot,  partly  in  a  tram,  to  the  embassy  and 
spend  my  time  there  in  the  usual  way. 

One  morning  —  I  have  kept  a  note  of  the  date;  it 
was  the  ninth  of  August  —  I  saw  a  large  crowd  of  people, 


64  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

plainly  tourists,  standing  together  on  the  footpath,  wait- 
ing for  a  tram.  The  sight  was  common  enough.  Every 
ten  days  or  so  an  enterprising  steamboat  company  lands 
a  bevy  of  these  worthy  people  in  Lisbon.  This  crowd 
was  a  little  larger  than  usual.  It  was  kept  together  by 
three  guides  who  were  in  charge  of  the  party  and  who 
galloped,  barking  furiously,  along  the  outskirts  of  the 
herd  whenever  a  wild  or  frightened  tourist  made  any 
attempt  to  break  away.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road  were  two  young  girls.  One  of  them,  very  prettily 
dressed  in  bright  blue,  was  adjusting  a  hand  camera  with 
the  intention  of  photographing  the  tourists  and  attendant 
watchdog  guides.  She  did  not  succeed,  because  one  of 
the  guides  recognized  her  as  a  member  of  his  flock  and 
crossed  the  road  to  where  she  stood.  I  know  the  man 
slightly.  He  is  a  cosmopolitan,  a  linguist  of  great  skill, 
who  speaks  good  English,  with  Portuguese  suavity  of 
manner,  in  times  of  calm,  but  bad  English,  with  French 
excitability  of  gesture,  when  he  is  annoyed.  He  reasoned, 
most  politely  I'm  sure,  with  the  two  girls.  He  wanted 
them  to  cross  the  road  and  take  their  places  among  the 
other  tourists.  The  girl  in  blue  handed  the  camera 
to  her  companion,  took  the  cosmopolitan  guide  by  the 
shoulders,  pushed  him  across  the  road  and  posed  him  in 
a  picturesque  attitude  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd. 
Then  she  went  back  to  take  her  picture.  The  guide, 
of  course,  followed  her,  and  I  could  see  by  the  vehe- 
mence of  his  shrugs  and  gesticulations  that  his  temper 
had  given  way.  I  guessed  that  his  English  must  have 
been  almost  unintelligible.  The  scene  interested  me 
and  I  stood  still  to  see  how  it  would  end.  The  girl  in 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  65 

the  blue  dress  changed  her  intention  and  tried  to  pho- 
tograph the  excited  interpreter  while  he  gesticulated. 
I  sympathized  with  her  wish.  His  attitudes  were  all 
well  worth  preserving.  If  she  had  been  armed  with 
phonograph  as  well  as  a  camera  she  might  have  secured 
a  really  valuable  record.  The  man,  to  my  knowledge, 
speaks  eight  languages,  all  equally  badly,  and  when  he 
mixes  them  he  is  well  worth  listening  to.  In  order  to 
get  him  into  focus  the  girl  in  the  blue  dress  kept  backing 
away  from  him,  holding  the  camera  level  and  gazing 
into  the  view  finder.  The  man,  gesticulating  more 
wildly  than  ever,  followed  her.  She  moved  more  and  more 
rapidly  away  from  him  until  at  last  she  was  proceeding 
backward  along  the  street  at  a  rapid  trot.  In  the  end 
she  bumped  against  me.  I  staggered  and  clutched  at 
my  hat.  She  turned,  and,  without  appearing  in  the 
least  put  out,  began  to  apologize.  Then  her  face  lit 
with  a  sudden  smile  of  recognition. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "it's  you?" 

I  recognized  the  voice  and  then  the  face.  I  also  retained 
my  presence  of  mind. 

"Begging  a  person's  pardon,"  I  said,  "when  we  tread 
on  their  toes  is  a  polite  and  reasonable  thing  to  do." 

Lalage  may  have  recognized  the  quotation,  although 
I  do  not  think  I  had  it  quite  right.  She  certainly  smiled 
agreeably.  But  she  had  no  time  to  waste  on  exchang- 
ing reminiscences. 

"Just  make  that  idiot  stand  where  he  is  for  a  moment," 
she  said,  "till  I  get  him  photographed.  I  wouldn't 
miss  him  for  pounds.  He's  quite  unique." 

The    interpreter    protested    volubly    in    Portuguese 


66  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

mixed  with  Spanish  and  French.  He  was,  so  he  told  me, 
placed  in  charge  of  the  tourists  by  the  steamboat  com- 
pany which  had  brought  them  to  Lisbon.  If  one  of 
them  got  lost  he  would  have  to  answer  for  it,  answer  for 
it  with  his  head,  and  the  senora,  the  two  exceedingly 
headstrong  senoras,  would  ,get  lost  unless  they  could 
be  penned  in  with  the  rest  of  his  flock. 

I  glanced  at  Lalage  several  times  while  the  inter- 
preter harangued  us,  and  noticed  that  she  had  grown 
into  an  extremely  pretty  girl.  She,  it  seemed,  was  also 
taking  stock  of  me. 

"You've  improved,"  she  said.  "Your  moustache 
has  broadened  out.  If  that  monkey  on  a  stick  won't 
be  photographed  I  wish  you'd  hunt  him  away  out  of 
this.  I  don't  know  any  Portuguese  swears  or  I'd  do 
it  myself." 

I  explained  to  the  interpreter  that  he  need  be  under  no 
anxiety  about  the  headstrong  senoras.  I  myself  would 
be  responsible  for  them,  and  would,  if  necessary,  answer 
for  their  safety  with  my  head.  He  departed,  doubtful 
and  ill  content.  He  was  probably  satisfied  that  I  was 
capable  of  looking  after  Lalage,  but  he  dreaded  the  effect 
of  her  example  on  the  rest  of  his  flock.  They  too  might 
escape. 

"This,"  said  Lalage,  leading  me  up  to  the  other  girl, 
who  wore  a  pink  dress,  "is  Hilda.  You've  heard  of 
Hilda." 

Hilda's  name  was  printed  on  my  memory.  She  is 
one  of  the  three  members  of  the  committee  of  the  A.T.R.S. 
I  shook  hands  with  her  and  asked  for  Selby-Harrison. 

"You  haven't  surely,"  I  said,  "come  without  Selby- 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  67 

Harrison,  who  won  the  junior  ex.?  The  committee 
ought  to  hold  together." 

"We  intended  to  bring  him,"  said  Lalage,  "but  there 
were  difficulties.  The  Archdeacon  heard  about  it  — 

"That  Archdeacon  again!"     I  said. 

"And  told  father  that  it  wouldn't  do  at  all.  Did 
you  ever  hear  such  nonsense?  I  shouldn't  have  minded 
that,  but  Hilda's  mother  struck  too.  It  ended  in  our 
having  to  bring  poor  old  Pussy  with  us  as  chaperon." 

"Pussy?" 

"Yes.  The  original  Cat,  Miss  Battersby.  You 
can't  have  forgotten  her,  surely?  It  happened  that  she 
was  getting  her  holidays  just  as  we  had  arranged  to 
start,  so  we  took  her  instead  of  Selby-Harrison,  which 
satisfied  the  Archdeacon  and  Hilda's  mother." 

"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  call  her  'Pussy'  now,"  I  said. 
"I  always  hoped  you  would." 

"She's  really  not  a  bad  sort,"  said  Lalage,  "when 
you  get  to  know  her.  She  did  us  very  little  harm  on 
the  steamer.  She  was  sick  the  whole  way  out,  so  we 
just  put  her  in  the  top  berth  of  our  cabin  and  left  her 
there." 

"Is  she  there  still?" 

Hilda  giggled.     Lalage  looked  slightly  annoyed. 

"Of  course  not,"  she  said.  "We  aren't  cruel.  We 
hauled  her  out  this  morning  and  dressed  her.  It  was 
rather  a  job  but  we  did  it.  We  took  her  ashore  with 
us  —  each  holding  one  arm,  for  she  was  frightfully 
staggery  at  first  —  and  made  her  smuggle  our  cigarettes 
for  us  through  the  custom-house.  No  one  would  suspect 
her  of  having  cigarettes.  By  the  way,  she  has  them  still. 


68  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

They're  in  a  large  pocket  which  I  sewed  on  the  inside 
of  her  petticoat.  She's  over  there  in  the  crowd.  Would 
you  very  much  mind  getting ? " 

"I  couldn't  possibly,"  I  said  hastily.  "She'd  be 
almost  certain  to  object,  especially  with  all  those  people 
standing  round.  You  must  wait  till  you  get  to  an  hotel 
and  then  undress  her  again  yourselves." 

"Don't  be  an  ass,"  said  Lalage.  "I  don't  want  you 
to  get  the  cigarettes.  I  want  you  to  rescue  Pussy  her- 
self. It  wouldn't  be  at  all  fair  to  allow  her  to  be  swept 
away  in  that  crowd.  We'd  never  see  her  again." 

I  did  not  much  care  for  undertaking  this  task  either, 
though  it  was  certainly  easier  than  the  other.  The 
polyglot  guide  would,  I  felt  sure,  deeply  resent  the  rape 
of  another  of  his  charges. 

"Couldn't  Hilda  do  that?"  I  said.  "After  all,  she's 
a  member  of  the  committee.  I'm  not.  And  you  told 
me  distinctly  that  ordinary  members  were  not  expected 
to  do  anything  except  subscribe." 

"Go  on,  Hilda,"  said  Lalage. 

I  suppose  Lalage  must  be  president  of  the  A.T.R.S. 
and  be  possessed  of  autocratic  powers.  Hilda  crossed 
the  road  without  a  murmur.  Selby-Harrison,  I  have 
no  doubt,  would  have  acted  in  the  same  way  if  he  had 
been  here. 

"And  now,  Lalage,"  I  said,  "you  must  tell  me  what 
brings  you  to  Portugal." 

"To  see  you,"  said  Lalage  promptly. 

"It's  very  nice  of  you  to  say  that,"  I  said,  "and  I 
feel  greatly  flattered." 

"Hilda  was  all  for  Oberammergau,  and  Selby-Har- 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  69 

rison  wanted  Normandy.  He  said  there  were  churches 
and  things  there  but  I  think  churches  are  rather  rot, 
don't  you?" 

"Besides,"  I  said,  "after  the  way  the  society  has  been 
treating  bishops  it  would  hardly  be  decent  to  accept  their 
hospitality  by  wandering  about  through  their  churches. 
Any  bishop,  especially  if  he'd  been  driven  out  of  public 
life  by  a  series  of  scathing  articles,  published  anony- 
mously, would  have  a  genuine  grievance  if  you " 

"It  was  really  that  which  decided  us  on  coming  here," 
said  Lalage. 

"Quite  right.  There  is  a  most  superior  kind  of  bish- 
op here,  a  Patriarch,  and  I  am  sure  that  anything  you 
publish  about  him  in  the  Portuguese  papers " 

"You  don't  understand  what  I  mean.  You're  getting 
stupid,  I  think.  I'm  not  talking  about  bishops.  I'm 
talking  about  you." 

"Don't  bother  about  taking  up  my  case  until  you've 
quite  finished  the  bishops.  I  am  a  young  man  still,  with 
years  and  years  before  me  in  which  I  shall  no  doubt  talk 
a  lot  of  tommyrot.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  drive  me 
out  of  public  life  before  I've  said  anything  which  you 
can  really  scathe." 

"We  thought,"  said  Lalage,  "that  as  it  didn't  much 
matter  to  us  where  we  went  we  might  as  well  come  out 
to  see  you.  You  were  the  only  person  who  gave  a  decent 
'sub'  to  the  society.  I'll  explain  our  new  idea  to  you 
later  on." 

"I'm  very  glad  I  did,"  I  said.  "If  another  fiver 
would  bring  Selby-Harrison  by  the  next  steamer  — 
Hullo!  Here's  Hilda  back  with  Miss  Battersby.  I 


70  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

hardly  thought  she'd  have  succeeded  in  getting  her. 
How  do  you  do,  Miss  Battersby?  I'm  delighted  to  wel- 
come you  to  Lisbon,  and  I  must  do  my  best  for  you  now 
you're  here.  I'm  quite  at  your  disposal  for  the  day." 

Miss  Battersby  smiled  feebly.  She  had  not  yet  re- 
covered from  the  effects  of  the  sea  voyage. 

"First,"  said  Lalage,  "we'll  go  to  an  hotel." 

"Of  course,"  I  said,  "to  get  the  cigarettes." 

"No,"  said  Lalage;  "to  let  Miss  Battersby  get  to 
bed.  She  wants  to  get  to  bed,  doesn't  she,  Hilda?" 

Hilda,  who  was  supporting  Miss  Battersby,  and  so  in 
a  position  to  judge  of  her  condition,  nodded. 

"She's  frightfully  weak,"  said  Lalage  to  me,  "on 
account  of  not  having  eaten  anything  except  two  water 
biscuits  and  an  apple  for  nearly  a  week." 

"In  that  case,"  I  said,  "a  little  luncheon " 

"Could  you  eat  luncheon?"  said  Lalage  to  Miss 
Battersby. 

Miss  Battersby  seemed  to  wish  to  try. 

"Could  she,  Hilda?"  said  Lalage.  "It's  a  long  time 
since  she  has." 

"She  must  make  a  beginning  some  day,"  I  said. 

"I  still  think  she'd  be  better  in  bed,"  said  Lalage. 

"After  lunch,"  I  said  firmly.  "You  ought  not  to 
be  vindictive,  Lalage.  It's  a  long  time  since  that  trouble 
about  the  character  of  Mary." 

"I'm  not  thinking  of  that,"  said  Lalage. 

"And  she's  not  a  bishop.  Why  should  you  starve 
her?" 

"Very  well,"  said  Lalage.     "Do  whatever  you  like, 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  71 

but  don't  blame  me  afterward  if  she's  —  she  was,  on  the 
steamer,  horribly." 

We  fed  Miss  Battersby  on  some  soup,  a  fragment  of 
fried  fish  and  a  glass  of  light  wine.  She  evidently  wanted 
to  eat  an  omelette  as  well,  but  Lalage  forbade  this. 
Whether  she  was  actually  put  to  bed  afterward  or  merely 
laid  down  I  do  not  know.  She  must  have  been  at  least 
partially  undressed,  for  Lalage  and  Hilda  were  plentifully 
supplied  with  cigarettes  during  the  afternoon. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ALAGE,  Hilda,  and  I  went  for  a  drive  in  one  of  the 
•*— '  attractive  carriages  which  ply  for  hire  in  the  Lisbon 
streets.  We  drove  up  one  side  of  the  Avenida  de  Liber- 
dade  and  down  the  other.  I  did  the  duty  of  a  good 
cicerone  by  pointing  out  the  fountains,  trees  and  other 
objects  of  interest  which  Lalage  and  Hilda  were  sure  to 
see  for  themselves.  When  we  had  exhausted  the  Avenida 
I  suggested  going  on  to  Belem.  Lalage  did  not  seem 
pleased.  She  said  that  driving  was  not  her  idea  of 
pleasure.  She  wanted  something  more  active  and  excit- 
ing. I  agreed. 

"We'll  go  in  a  tram,"  I  said. 

"Where  to?" 

"Belem." 

"Belem's  a  church,  isn't  it,  Hilda?" 

Hilda  and  I  both  admitted  that  it  was. 

"Then  we  can't  go  there,"  said  Lalage  decidedly. 

"Why  not?"  I  ventured  to  ask. 

"You  said  yourself  that  it  wouldn't  be  decent." 

" Oh ! "  I  said,  "you're  thinking  of  those  poor  bishops ; 
but  you  haven't  done  anything  to  the  Portuguese  pa- 
triarch yet.  Besides,  only  half  of  Belem  is  a  church. 
The  other  half  is  a  school,  quite  secular." 

"  The  only  things  I  really  want  to  see,"  said  Lalage, 
"are  the  dead  Portuguese  kings  in  glass  cases." 

72 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  73 

"The  what?" 

"The  dead  kings.  Stuffed,  I  suppose.  Do  you  mean 
to  say  you've  been  here  nearly  four  years  and  don't  yet 
know  the  way  they  keep  their  kings,  like  natural  his- 
tory specimens  in  a  museum?  Why,  that  was  the  very 
first  thing  Hilda  found  out  in  the  guide  book." 

"I  didn't,"  said  Hilda.     "It  was  you." 

"Let's  credit  Selby-Harrison  with  the  discovery," 
I  said  soothingly.  "I  remember  now  about  those  kings. 
But  the  exhibition  has  been  closed  to  the  public  now  for 
some  years.  We  shan't  be  able  to  get  in." 

"What's  the  use  of  being  an  ambassador,"  said  Lalage, 
"if  you  can't  step  in  to  see  a  dead  king  whenever  you 
like?" 

An  ambassador  may  be  able  to  claim  audiences  with 
deceased  royalties,  but  I  was  not  an  ambassador.  I 
offered  Lalage  as  an  alternative  the  nearest  thing  at 
my  command  to  dead  kings. 

"The  English  cemetery,"  I  said,  "is  considered  one 
of  the  sights  of  Lisbon.  If  you  are  really  interested  in 
corpses  we  might  go  there." 

"  I  hate  Englishmen,"  said  Lalage.     "All  Englishmen." 

"That's  why  I  suggested  their  cemetery.  It  will  be 
immensely  gratifying  to  you  to  realize  what  a  lot  of  them 
have  died.  The  place  is  nearly  full  and  there  are  lots 
of  yew  trees." 

Lalage  did  me  the  honour  of  laughing.  Hilda,  after 
a  minute's  consideration,  also  laughed.  But  they  were 
not  to  be  distracted  from  the  dead  kings. 

"We'll  go  back  to  the  hotel,"  said  Lalage,  "and  rout 
out  poor  Pussy.  She'll  be  wanting  more  food  by  this 


74  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

time.  You  can  go  and  call  on  the  present  King  or  the 
Queen  Mother,  or  whoever  it  is  who  keeps  the  key  of 
that  mausoleum  and  then  come  back  for  us.  By  the 
way,  before  you  go,  just  tell  me  the  Portuguese  for  an 
ice.  It's  desperately  hot." 

I  told  her  and  then  got  out  of  the  carriage.  I  did  not 
call  upon  either  the  King  or  his  mother.  They  were  in 
Cintra,  so  I  should  not  have  had  time  to  get  at  them  even 
if  I  had  wished.  I  saw  my  chief,  and,  with  the  fear  of 
Lalage  before  my  eyes,  worried  him  until  he  gave  me  a 
letter  to  a  high  official.  From  him  I  obtained  with  great 
difficulty  the  permission  I  wanted.  I  returned  to  the 
hotel.  Miss  Battersby,  though  recovering  rapidly,  was 
still  too  feeble  to  accompany  us;  so  Lalage,  Hilda,  and  I 
set  off  without  her. 

The  dead  kings  were  a  disappointment.  Hilda's 
nerve  failed  her  on  the  doorstep  and  she  declined  to  go 
in.  Lalage  and  I  went  through  the  exhibition  alone. 
I  observed,  without  surprise,  that  Lalage  turned  her  eyes 
away  from  the  objects  she  had  come  to  inspect.  I  ven- 
tured, when  we  got  out,  to  suggest  that  we  might  per- 
haps have  spent  a  pleasanter  afternoon  at  Belem. 
Lalage  snubbed  me  sharply. 

"Certainly  not,"  she  said.  "I'm  going  in  for  the 
Vice-Chancellor's  prize  for  English  verse  next  year 
and  the  subject  is  mortality.  I  shall  simply  knock  spots 
out  of  the  other  competitors  when  I  work  in  those  kings. 

"  'Sceptre    and    crown 
Must  tumble  down.' 

You  know  the  sort  of  thing  I  mean." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  75 

"That's  not  original,"  I  said.  "I  remember  it  dis- 
tinctly in  the  'Golden  Treasury,'  though  I  have  for- 
gotten the  author's  name." 

"It  wasn't  meant  to  be  original.  I  quoted  it  simply 
as  an  indication  of  the  sort  of  line  I  mean  to  take  in  my 
poem." 

"You'll  win  the  prize  to  a  certainty.  When  you 
publish  the  poem  afterward  with  notes  I  hope  you'll 
mention  my  name.  Without  me  you  wouldn't  have  got 
at  those  kings." 

"In  the  meanwhile,"  said  Lalage,  "I  could  do  with 
some  tea  and  another  ice.  Couldn't  you,  Hilda?" 

Hilda  could  and  did.  I  took  them  to  an  excellent 
shop  in  the  Rua  Aurea,  where  Hilda  had  three  ices  and 
Lalage  four,  after  tea.  I  only  had  one.  Lalage  twitted 
me  with  my  want  of  appetite. 

"I  can't  eat  any  more."  I  said.  "The  thought  of 
poor  Miss  Battersby  sitting  alone  in  that  stuffy  hotel 
has  spoiled  my  appetite." 

"The  hotel  is  stuffy,"  said  Lalage.  "Where  are  you 
stopping?" 

I  mentioned  Mont  'Estoril  and  Lalage  at  once  pro- 
posed to  move  her  whole  party  out  there. 

There  were  difficulties  with  the  Lisbon  hotel  keeper 
who  wanted  to  be  paid  for  the  beds  which  Lalage  and 
Hilda  had  not  slept  in  as  well  as  for  that  which  Miss 
Battersby  had  enjoyed  during  the  afternoon.  Lalage 
argued  with  him  in  French,  which  he  understood  very 
imperfectly,  and  she  boasted  afterward  that  she  had 
convinced  him  of  the  unreasonableness  of  his  demand. 
I,  privately,  paid  his  bill. 


76  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

There  were  also  difficulties  with  Miss  Battersby.  She 
had,  so  Hilda  told  me,  the  strongest  possible  objection  to 
putting  on  her  clothes  again.  But  Lalage  was  determined. 
In  less  than  an  hour  after  our  return  to  the  hotel  I  was 
sitting  opposite  to  Miss  Battersby,  who  was  swathed 
rather  than  dressed,  in  a  railway  carriage,  speeding  along 
the  northern  shore  of  the  Tagus  estuary. 

I  had,  early  in  the  summer,  made  friends  with  a  Mr. 
and  Mrs  Dodds,  who  were  living  in  my  hotel.  Mr. 
Dodds  was  a  Glasgow  merchant  and  was  conducting  the 
Portuguese  side  of  his  firm's  business.  Mrs.  Dodds  was 
a  native  of  Paisley.  They  were  both  very  fond  of  bridge, 
and  I  had  got  into  the  habit  of  playing  with  them  every 
evening.  We  depended  on  chance  for  a  fourth  member 
of  our  party,  and  just  at  the  time  of  Lalage's  visit  were 
particularly  fortunate  in  securing  a  young  English 
engineer  who  was  installing  a  service  of  electric  light 
somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  Doddses  were 
friendly  people  and  I  had  gradually  come  to  entertain  a 
warm  regard  for  them  in  spite  of  the  extreme  severity  of 
their  bridge  and  Mrs.  Dodds's  habit  of  speaking  plainly 
about  my  mistakes.  I  would  not,  except  under  great 
pressure,  cause  any  inconvenience  or  annoyance  to  the 
Doddses.  But  Lalage  is  great  pressure.  When  she  said 
that  I  was  to  spend  the  evening  talking  to  her  I  saw  at 
once  that  the  bridge  must  be  sacrificed.  My  plan  was  to 
apologize  profusely  to  the  Doddses,  and  leave  them  con- 
demned for  one  evening  to  sit  bridgeless  till  bedtime. 
But  Lalage  would  not  hear  of  this.  She  wanted,  so  she 
said,  to  talk  confidentially  to  me.  Miss  Battersby  was 
an  obstacle  in  her  way,  and  so  she  ordered  me  to  intro- 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  77 

duce   Miss  Battersby  as  my  substitute  at  the  bridge 
table. 

If  Miss  Battersby  had  acted  reasonably  and  gone  to 
bed  either  before  or  immediately  after  dinner  this  would 
have  been  unnecessary.  But  she  did  not.  She  became 
immoderately  cheerful  and  was  most  anxious  to^  enjoy 
Herself.  I  set  her  down  at  the  card  table  and  then,  as 
quickly  as  possible,  fled.  Miss  Battersby's  bridge  is  of 
the  most  rudimentary  and  irritating  kind  and  she  has 
a  conscientious  objection  to  paying  for  the  small  stakes 
which  usually  gave  a  brightness  to  our  game.  It  was 
necessary  for  me  to  get  out  of  earshot  of  the  Doddses  and 
the  engineer  before  they  discovered  these  two  facts  about 
Miss  Battersby.  I  thought  it  probable  that  I  should 
have  to  go  to  a  new  hotel  next  day  in  order  to  escape  the 
reproaches  of  my  friends.  But  I  did  not  want  to  move 
that  night,  so  I  went  into  the  hotel  garden,  hustling  Hilda 
before  me.  There  was  no  need  to  hustle  Lalage.  She 
understood  the  need  for  haste  even  better  than  I  did. 
I  knew  Miss  Battersby's  capacity  for  bridge,  having  occa- 
sionally played  with  her  in  my  uncle's  house.  Lalage 
understood  how  acutely  the  pain  brought  on  by  Miss 
Battersby's  bridge  would  be  aggravated  by  the  depre- 
cating sweetness  of  Miss  Battersby's  manner.  In  the 
hotel  garden  there  were  a  number  of  chairs  made,  I 
expect,  by  a  man  whose  regular  business  in  life  was  the 
manufacture  of  the  old-fashioned  straw  beehives.  When 
forced  by  the  introduction  of  the  new  wooden  hives  to 
turn  his  hand  to  making  chairs,  he  failed  to  shake  himself 
free  of  the  tradition  of  his  proper  art.  His  chairs  were  as 
like  beehives  as  it  is  possible  for  chairs  to  be  and  anybody 


78  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

who  sits  back  in  one  of  them  is  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
walls  and  overshadowed  by  a  hood  of  woven  wicker- 
work.  When  Lalage  sat  down  I  could  see  no  more  of 
her  than  the  glowing  end  of  her  cigarette  and  the  toes  of 
her  shoes.  Hilda  was  to  the  same  extent  invisible.  I 
was  annoyed  by  this  at  first,  for  Lalage  is  very  pretty  to 
look  at  and  the  night  was  not  so  dark  when  we  sat  down 
but  that  I  could,  had  she  been  in  any  ordinary  chair,  have 
traced  the  outline  of  her  figure.  Later  on,  when  our  con- 
versation reached  its  most  interesting  point,  I  was  thankful 
to  recollect  that  I  also  was  in  obscurity.  I  am  not,  owing 
to  my  training  as  a  diplomatist,  an  easy  man  to  startle, 
but  Lalage  gave  me  a  severe  shock.  I  prefer  to  keep 
my  face  in  the  shadow  when  I  am  moved  to  unexpected 
emotion. 

"  To-morrow,"  I  said  pleasantly,  by  way  of  opening 
the  conversation,  "we  shall  have  another  long  day's 
sight-seeing,  mitigated  with  ices." 

"I'm  sorry  to  say,"  said  Lalage,  "that  we  go  home 
to-morrow.  The  steamer  sails  at  11  A.M." 

"Surely  there  can  be  no  real  need  for  such  hurry. 
Now  that  we  have  Miss  Battersby  among  us  the  Arch- 
deacon and  Hilda's  mother  will  be  quite  satisfied." 

"It's  not  that  in  the  least,"  said  Lalage.  "Is  it, 
Hilda?" 

Hilda  said  something  about  return  tickets,  but  Lalage 
snubbed  her.  I  gathered  that  there  was  reason  for  pre- 
cipitancy more  serious  than  the  by-laws  of  the  steamboat 
company. 

"I  am  confident,"  I  said,  "that  Selby-Harrison  is 
capable  of  carrying  on  the  work  of  exterminating  bishops." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  79 

"It's  not  that  either,"  said  Lalage.  "The  fact  is  that 
we  have  come  to  Lisbon  on  business,  not  for  pleasure. 
You've  probably  guessed  that  already." 

"I  feared  it.  Of  the  two  reasons  you  gave  me  this 
morning  for  coming  here 

"I  haven't  told  you  any  reason  yet,"  said  Lalage. 

"Excuse  me,  but  when  we  first  met  this  morning  you 
said  distinctly  that  you  had  come  to  see  me.  I  hardly 
flattered  myself  that  could  really  be  true." 

"It  was,"  said  Lalage.     "Quite  true." 

"It's  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so  and  of  course  I  quite 
believe  you,  but  then  you  afterward  gave  me  to  understand 
that  your  real  object  was  to  work  up  the  emotion  caused 
by  the  appearance  of  a  dead  king  with  a  view  to  utiliz- 
ing it  to  add  intensity  to  a  prize  poem.  That,  of  course, 
is  business  of  a  very  serious  kind.  That's  why  I  meant 
to  say  a  minute  ago  that  of  the  two  reasons  you  gave  me 
for  coming  here  the  second  was  the  more  urgent." 

"Don't  ramble  in  that  way,"  said  Lalage.  "It  wastes 
time.  Hilda,  explain  the  scheme  which  we  have  in  mind 
at  present." 

Hilda  threw  away  the  greater  part  of  a  cigarette  and 
sat  up  in  her  beehive.  I  do  not  think  that  Hilda  enjoys 
smoking  cigarettes.  She  probably  does  it  to  impress  the 
public  with  the  genuine  devotion  to  principle  of  the 
A.T.R.S. 

"The  society,"  said  Hilda  "has  met  with  difficulties. 
Its  objects " 

"He  knows  the  objects,"  said  Lalage.     "Don't  you?" 

"To  expose  in  the  public  press "  I  began. 

"That's  just  where  we're  stuck,"  said  Lalage. 


80  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  Irish  newspapers 
have  been  so  incredibly  stupid  as  not  to  publish  the 
articles  sent  by  you,  Hilda,  and  Selby-Harrison?" 

"Not  a  single  one  of  them,"  said  Lalage. 

"And  the  bishops,"  I  said,  "still  wear  their  purple 
stocks,  their  aprons,  and  their  gaiters;  and  still  talk 
tommyrot  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land." 

"But  we're  not  the  least  inclined  to  give  in,"  said 
Lalage. 

"Don't,"  I  said.  "Keep  on  pelting  the  editors  with 
articles.  Some  day  one  of  them  will  be  away  from  home 
and  an  inexperienced  subordinate ' 

"That  would  be  no  use,"  said  Hilda. 

"What  we  have  determined  to  do,"  said  Lalage,  "is 
to  start  a  paper  of  our  own." 

"It  ought,"  I  said,  "to  be  a  huge  success." 

"I'm  glad  you  agree  with  us  there,"  said  Lalage. 
"We've  gone  into  the  matter  minutely.  Selby-Harrison 
worked  it  out  and  we  don't  see  how  we  could  possibly 
make  less  than  12  per  cent.  Not  that  we  want  to 
make  money  out  of  it.  Our  efforts  are  purely  —  what's 
that  word,  Hilda?  You  found  it  in  a  book,  but  I 
always  forget  it." 

"Altruistic,"  said  Hilda. 

"You  understand  that,  I  suppose?"  said  Lalage  tome. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  do.  But  I  wasn't  thinking  of  the 
financial  side  of  the  enterprise  when  I  spoke  of  its  being 
an  immense  success.  What  I  had  in  mind " 

"Finance,"  said  Lalage  severely,  "cannot  possibly 
be  ignored." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  -  81 

"All  we  want,"  said  Hilda,"  is  some  one  to  guarantee 
the  working  expenses  for  the  first  three  months." 

"And  I  said,"  added  Lalage,  "that  you'd  do  it  if 
we  came  out  here  and  asked  you." 

I  recollected  hearing  of  an  Englishman  who  started 
a  daily  paper  which  afterward  failed  and  it  was  said  that 
he  lost  £300,000  by  the  venture.  I  hesitated. 

"What  we  ask,"  said  Lalage,  "is  not  money,  but  a 
guarantee,  and  we  are  willing  to  pay  8  per  cent,  to  who- 
ever does  it.  The  difference  between  a  guarantee  and 
actual  money  is  that  in  the  one  case  you  will  probably 
never  have  to  pay  at  all,  while  in  the  other  you  will  have 
to  fork  out  at  once." 

"Am  I,"  I  asked,  "to  get  8  per  cent,  on  what  I  don't 
give,  but  merely  promise?" 

"That's  what  it  comes  to,"  said  Lalage.  "I  call  it 
a  good  offer." 

"It's  one  of  the  most  generous  I  ever  heard,"  I  said. 
"May  I  ask  if  Selby-Harrison ?" 

"It  was  his  suggestion,"  said  Hilda.  "Neither  Lalage 
nor  I  are  any  good  at  sums,  specially  decimals." 

"And,"  said  Lalage,  "you'll  get  a  copy  of  each  number 
post  free  just  the  same  as  if  you  were  a  regular  sub- 
scriber!" 

"We've  got  one  advertiser  already,"  said  Hilda. 

"And,"  said  Lalage,  " advertisments  pay  the  whole 
cost  of  newspapers  nowadays.  Any  one  who  knows 
anything  about  the  business  side  of  the  press  knows  that. 
Selby-Harrison  met  a  man  the  other  day  who  reports 
football  matches  and  he  said  so." 

"Is  it  cocoa,"  I  asked,  "or  soap,  or  hair  restorer?" 


82  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"No.  It's  a  man  who  wants  to  buy  second-hand 
feather  beds.  I  can't  imagine  what  he  means  to  do  with 
them  when  he  gets  them,  but  that's  his  business.  We 
needn't  worry  ourselves  so  long  as  he  pays  us." 

"Lalage,"  I  said,  "and  Hilda,  I  am  so  thoroughly 
convinced  of  your  energy  and  enterprise,  I  feel  so  sure 
of  Selby-Harrison's  financial  ability  and  I  am  so  deeply 
in  sympathy  with  the  objects  of  your,  may  I  say  our, 
society,  that  if  I  possessed  £300,000  you  should  have  it 
to-morrow;  but,  owing  to  recent  legislation  affecting 
Irish  land,  the  ever-increasing  burden  of  income  tax  and 
the  death  duties " 

"Don't  start  rambling  again,"  said  Lalage.  "It  isn't 
in  the  least  funny,  and  we're  both  beginning  to  get 
sleepy.  Nobody  wants  £300,000." 

"It  takes  that,"  I  said,  "to  run  a  newspaper." 

"What  we  want,"  said  Lalage,  "is  thirty  pounds, 
guaranteed  —  ten  pounds  a  month  for  three  months. 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  sign  a  paper " 

"Did  Selby-Harrison  draw  up  the  paper?" 

"Yes.     And  Hilda  has  it  upstairs  in  her  trunk." 

"That's  enough,"  I  said.  "Anything  Selby-Harrison 
has  drawn  up  I'll  sign.  Perhaps,  Hilda,  you'll  be  good 
enough  —  I  wouldn't  trouble  you  if  I  knew  where  to 
find  it  myself." 

"Get  it,  Hilda,"  said  Lalage. 

Hilda  struggled  out  of  her  beehive  and  immediately 
stumbled  into  a  bed  of  stocks.  It  had  become  very  dark 
while  we  talked,  but  I  think  the  scent  of  the  flowers  might 
have  warned  her  of  her  danger.  I  picked  her  up  care- 
fully and  set  her  on  the  path. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  83 

"Perhaps,"  I  said,  "you  won't  mind  taking  off  your 
shoes  as  you  cross  the  hall  outside  the  drawing-room. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dodds  must  have  found  out  about  Miss 
Battersby's  bridge  by  this  time." 

I  think  Hilda  winked.  I  did  not  actually  see  her 
wink.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  anything;  but  there  was  a 
feeling  in  the  air  as  if  somebody  winked  and  Lalagehad 
nothing  to  wink  about. 

"If,"  I  added,  "they  rush  out  and  catch  you,  they  will 
certainly  ask  you  where  I  am.  You  must  be  prepared 
for  that.  Would  you  very  much  mind  exaggerating  a 
little,  just  for  once?" 

This  time  Hilda  giggled  audibly. 

"You  might  say  that  Lalage  and  I  had  gone  for  a  long 
walk  and  that  you  do  not  know  when  we  will  be  back." 

"That  wouldn't  be  true,"  said  Lalage,  "so  of  course 
it  can't  be  said." 

"We  can  easily  make  it  true,"  I  said.  "I  don't  want 
to  go  for  a  walk  at  this  time  of  night  and  I'm  sure 
you  don't,  after  the  exhausting  day  you've  had  —  but 
rather  than  put  Hilda  hi  an  awkward  position  and  set 
her  conscience  gnawing  at  her  during  the  night  we  might 
start  at  once,  not  telling  Hilda  when  we'll  be  back." 

"All  right,"  said  Lalage.  "Pussy  will  fuss  afterward 
of  course.  But " 

"I  entirely  forgot  Miss  Battersby,"  I  said.  "She 
would  fuss  to  a  certainty.  She  might  write  to  the  Arch- 
deacon. After  all,  Hilda,  you'll  have  to  chance  it  with 
your  shoes  off.  But  for  goodness'  sake  don't  sneeze 
or  fall  or  anything  of  that  sort  just  outside  the  door." 

Hilda  returned  in  about  ten  minutes.    She  told  us 


84  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

that  she  whistled  "Annie  Laurie"  on  her  way  upstairs  so 
as  to  give  any  one  who  might  hear  her  the  impression  that 
she  was  the  boy  employed  by  the  hotel  proprietor  to 
clean  boots.  The  ruse,  a  brilliantly  original  one,  was 
entirely  successful.  The  bridge  party,  as  I  learned  next 
day,  including  Miss  Battersby,  had  gone  to  bed  early. 
They  did  not  play  very  much  bridge.  Hilda  brought 
Selby-Harrison's  form  of  guarantee  with  her.  It  was 
written  on  a  sheet  of  blue  foolscap  paper  and  ornamented 
with  a  penny  stamp,  necessary,  so  a  footnote  informed  me, 
because  the  sum  of  money  involved  was  more  than  two 
pounds.  I  signed  it  with  a  fountain  pen  by  the  light 
of  a  wax  match  which  Lalage  struck  on  the  sole  of  her 
shoe  and  obligingly  held  so  that  it  did  not  quite  burn  my 
hair. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  IS  only  very  gradually  that  one  comes  to  appreciate 
Lalage.  I  had  known  her  since  she  was  quite  a 
small  child.  I  even  recollect  her  insisting  upon  my  wheel- 
ing her  perambulator  once  when  I  was  a  schoolboy,  and 
naturally  resented  such  an  indignity.  Yet  I  had  failed 
to  realize  the  earnestness  and  vigour  of  her  character. 
I  did  not  expect  anything  to  come  of  the  guarantee  which 
I  had  signed  for  her.  I  might  and  ought  to  have  known 
better;  but  I  was  in  fact  greatly  surprised  when  I  received 
by  post  the  first  copy  of  the  Anti-Tommy-Rot  Gazette. 
It  was  not  a  very  large  publication,  but  it  contained  more 
print  than  I  should  have  thought  obtainable  for  the 
sum  of  ten  pounds.  Besides  the  title  of  the  magazine 
and  a  statement  that  this  issue  was  Vol.  L,  No.  I.,  there 
was  a  picture  of  a  young  lady,  clothed  like  the  goddess 
Diana  in  the  illustrations  of  the  classical  dictionary,  who 
was  urging  on  several  large  dogs  of  most  ferocious  ap- 
pearance. In  the  distance,  evidently  terrified  by  the 
dogs,  were  three  animals  of  no  recognized  species,  but 
very  disgusting  in  appearance,  which  bore  on  their  sides 
the  words  "Tommy  Rot."  The  huntress  was  remark- 
ably like  Hilda  in  appearance  and  the  initials  "L.B." 
at  the  bottom  left-hand  corner  of  the  picture  told  me  that 
the  artist  was  Lalage  herself.  One  of  the  dogs  was  a 
highly  idealized  portrait  of  a  curly  haired  retriever 

85 


86 

belonging  to  my  mother.  The  objects  of  the  chase  I 
did  not  recognize  as  copies  of  any  beasts  known  to  me; 
though  there  was  something  in  the  attitude  of  the  worst 
of  them  which  reminded  me  slightly  of  the  Archdeacon. 
I  never  heard  what  Hilda's  mother  thought  of  this 
picture.  If  she  is  the  kind  of  woman  I  imagine  her 
to  be  she  probably  resented  the  publication  of  a 
portrait  of  her  daughter  dressed  in  a  single  garment 
only  and  that  decidedly  shorter  than  an  ordinary  night 
dress. 

Opening  the  magazine  at  page  one,  I  came  upon  an  edi- 
torial article.  The  rapid  increase  of  the  habit  of  talking 
tommyrot  was  dwelt  upon  and  the  necessity  for  prompt 
action  was  emphasized.  The  objects  of  the  society  were 
set  forth  with  a  naked  directness,  likely,  I  feared,  to 
cause  offence.  Then  came  a  paragraph,  most  disquieting 
to  me,  in  which  the  generous  gentleman  whose  aid  had 
rendered  the  publication  of  the  magazine  possible  was 
subjected  to  a  good  deal  of  praise.  His  name  was  not 
actually  mentioned,  but  he  was  described  as  a  distin- 
guished diplomatist  well  known  in  an  important  conti- 
nental court.  This  made  me  uneasy.  There  are  not  very 
many  distinguished  diplomatists  who  would  finance  a 
magazine  of  the  kind.  I  felt  that  suspicion  would  fasten 
almost  at  once  upon  me,  in  the  event  of  there  being  any 
kind  of  public  inquiry.  Next  to  the  editorial  article 
came  a  page  devoted  on  one  side  entirely  to  the  adver- 
tisement of  the  gentleman  who  wanted  second-hand 
feather  beds.  The  other  side  of  it  was  announced  as 
"To  Let,"  and  the  attention  of  advertisers  was  called 
to  the  unique  opportunity  offered  to  them  of  making 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  87 

their  wishes  known  to  an  intelligent  and  progressive 
public.  After  that  came  the  bishops. 

Each  bishop  had  at  least  half  a  page  to  himself.  Some 
had  much  more,  the  amount  of  space  devoted  to  them 
being  apparently  regulated  in  accordance  with  the 
enormity  of  their  offences.  There  was  a  note  in  italics 
at  the  end  of  each  indictment  which  ran  thus: 

"All  inquirers  after  the  original  sources  of  the  infor- 
mation used  in  this  article  are  requested  to  apply  to  J. 
Selby-Harrison,  Esq.,  175  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  by 
whom  the  research  in  the  columns  of  the  daily  papers 
has  been  conducted  with  much  ability  and  disinterested 
discretion.  P.S.  —  J.  Selby-Harrison  has  in  all  cases 
preserved  notes  of  the  dates,  etc.,  for  purposes  of  verifi- 
cation." The  working  up  of  the  material  thus  collected 
was  without  doubt  done  by  Lalage.  I  recognized  her 
style.  Hilda  probably  corrected  the  proof. 

In  the  letter  which  Lalage  wrote  to  me  at  the  time  of 
the  founding  of  the  A.T.R.S.  she  spoke  of  university  life 
as  broadening  the  mind  and  enlarging  the  horizon. 
Either  Oxford  in  this  respect  is  inferior  to  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Dublin,  or  else  my  mind  has  narrowed  again  since 
I  took  my  degree  and  my  horizon  has  shrunk.  I  did 
not  feel  that  the  episcopal  pronouncements  quoted 
deserved  the  eminence  to  which  Lalage  promoted  them. 
They  struck  me  as  being  simply  commonplace.  I  had 
grown  quite  accustomed  to  them  and  had  come  to  regard 
them  as  proper  and  natural  things  for  bishops  to  say. 
For  instance,  the  very  first  paragraph  in  this  pillory  of 
Lalage's  was  devoted  to  a  bishop,  I  forget  his  name  and 
territorial  title,  who  had  denounced  Sir  Walter  Scott's 


88  IMAGE'S  LOVERS] 

"Ivanhoe."  Some  evil-minded  person  had  put  forward 
this  novel  as  a  suitable  reading  book  for  Irish  boys  and 
girls  in  secondary  schools,  and  the  bishop  had  objected 
strongly.  Lalage  was  cheerfully  contemptuous  of  him. 
Without  myself  sharing  his  feeling,  I  can  quite  under- 
stand that  he  may  have  found  it  his  duty  to  protest 
against  the  deliberate  encouragement  of  such  dangerous 
reading;  and  it  is  seldom  right  to  laugh  at  a  man  for  doing 
his  duty.  I  read  "Ivanhoe"  when  I  was  a  boy  and  I  dis- 
tinctly remember  that  at  least  one  eminent  ecclesiastic 
is  presented  in  a  most  unfavourable  light.  If  Irish  boys 
and  girls  got  into  the  way  of  thinking  of  twelfth-century 
priors  as  gay  dogs,  the  step  onward  to  actual  disrespect 
for  contemporary  bishops  would  be  quite  a  short  one. 

There  was  another  bishop  (he  appeared  a  few  pages 
further  on  in  the  Gazette)  who  objected  to  the  education 
of  boys  and  girls  under  seven  years  of  age  in  the  same 
infant  schools.  He  said  that  this  mixing  of  the  sexes 
would  destroy  the  beautiful  modesty  of  demeanour  which 
distinguishes  Irish  girls  from  those  of  other  nations. 
Lalage  poked  fun  at  this  man  for  a  page  and  a  half.  I 
hesitate  to  say  that  she  was  actually  wrong.  My  own 
experience  of  infant  schools  is  very  small.  I  once  went 
into  one,  but  I  did  not  stay  there  for  more  than  five  min- 
utes, hardly  long  enough  to  form  an  opinion  about  the 
wholesomeness  of  the  moral  atmosphere.  But  in  this 
case  again  I  can  enter  into  the  feelings  of  the  bishop. 
He  probably  knows,  having  once  been  six  years  old  him- 
self, that  all  boys  of  that  age  are  horrid  little  beasts.  He 
also  knows  —  he  distinctly  says  so  in  the  pastoral  quoted 
by  Lalage  —  that  the  charm  of  maidenhood  is  a  delicate 


lALAGE'S  LOVERS  89 

thing,  comparable  to  the  bloom  on  a  peach  OP  the  gloss 
on  a  butterfly's  wings.  Even  Miss  Battersby,  who  must 
know  more  about  girls  than  any  bishop,  felt  that  Lalage 
had  lost  something  not  to  be  regained  when  she  became 
intimate  enough  with  Tom  Kitterick  to  rub  glycerine 
and  cucumber  into  his  cheeks. 

Lalage  was,  in  my  opinion,  herself  guilty  of  something 
very  like  the  sin  of  tommyrot  when  she  mocked  another 
bishop  for  a  sermon  he  had  preached  on  "Empire  Day." 
He  said  that  wherever  the  British  flag  flies  there  is  liberty 
for  subject  peoples  and  several  other  obviously  true  things 
of  the  same  kind.  I  do  not  see  what  else,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, the  poor  man  could  say.  Nor  do  I  blame 
him  in  the  least  for  boldly  demanding  more  battleships 
to  carry  something  —  I  think  he  said  the  Gospel  —  to 
still  remoter  lands.  Lalage  chose  to  pretend  that  liberty 
and  subjection  are  contradictory  terms,  but  this  is 
plainly  absurd.  Lord  Thormanby  talked  over  this  part 
of  ^the  Gazette  with  me  some  months  later  and  gave  it  as 
his  opinion  that  a  man  whom  he  knew  in  the  club  had 
put  the  case  very  well  by  saying  that  there  are  several 
quite  distinct  kinds  of  liberty. 

I  found  myself  still  more  puzzled  by  Lalage's  attitude 
toward  another  man  who  was  not  even,  strictly  speaking, 
a  bishop.  He  was  a  moderator,  or  an  ex-moderator,  of 
the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  He 
had  made  a  speech  in  which  he  set  forth  reasons  why  he 
and  others  like  him  should  have  a  recognized  place  in  the 
vice-regal  court.  I  am  not  myself  passionately  fond  of 
vice-regal  courts,  but  I  know  that  many  people  regard 
them  with  great  reverence,  and  I  do  not  see  why  a  man 


90  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

should  be  laughed  at  for  wanting  to  walk  through  the 
state  rooms  in  Dublin  Castle  in  front  of  somebody  else. 
It  is  a  harmless,  perhaps  a  laudable,  ambition.  Lalage 
chose  to  see  something  funny  in  it,  and  I  am  bound  to 
say  that  when  I  had  finished  her  article  I  too  began  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  amusing  side  of  it. 

I  spent  a  long  time  over  the  Gazette.  The  more  I 
read  it  the  greater  my  perplexity  grew.  Many  things 
which  I  had  accepted  for  years  as  solemn  and  necessary 
parts  of  the  divine  ordering  of  the  world  were  suddenly 
seized,  contorted,  and  made  to  grin  like  apes.  I  felt  dis- 
quieted, inclined,  and  yet  half  afraid,  to  laugh.  I  was 
rendered  acutely  uncomfortable  by  an  editorial  note 
which  followed  the  last  jibe  at  the  last  bishop:  "The 
next  number  of  the  Anti-  Tommy-Rot  Gazette  will  deal 
with  politicians  and  may  be  expected  to  be  lively.  Sub- 
scribe at  once.  —  Ed." 

I  was  so  profoundy  distrustful  of  my  own  judgment  in 
delicate  matters  that  I  determined  to  find  out  if  I  could 
what  Dodds  thought  of  Lalage's  opinions.  Dodds  is 
preeminently  a  man  of  the  world,  very  sound,  unemotional 
and  full  of  common  sense.  I  did  not  produce  the 
Gazette  or  mention  Lalage's  name,  for  Dodds  has  had  a 
prejudice  against  her  since  the  evening  on  which  he  played 
bridge  with  Miss  Battersby.  Nor  did  I  make  a  special 
business  of  asking  his  advice.  I  waited  until  we  sat  down 
to  bridge  together  after  dinner  and  then  I  put  a  few  typical 
cases  before  him  in  casual  tones,  as  if  they  were  occurring 
to  me  at  the  moment. 

"Dodds,"  I  said,  holding  the  cards  in  my  hand, 
"supposing  that  a  bishop  for  whom  you  always  had  a 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  91 

respect  on  account  of  the  dignity  of  his  office,  were  to 
say " 

"I  wouldn't  have  any  respect  for  a  bishop  on  account 
of  his  office,"  said  Dodds.  "Why  don't  you  deal?" 

"We're  Presbyterians,"  said  Mrs.  Dodds. 

"That  needn't  prevent  you  considering  this  case,  for 
the  word  bishop  is  here  used  —  that  is  to  say,  I  am  using 
it  —  to  mean  any  eminent  ecclesiastic.  All  right,  I'm 
dealing  as  fast  as  I  can.  Supposing  that  a  man  of  that 
kind,  call  him  a  bishop  or  anything  else  you  like,  were  to 
say  that  boys  and  girls  ought  not  to  read  'Ivanhoe'  on 
account  of  the  danger  to  their  faith  and  morals  contained 
in  that  book,  would  you  or  would  you  not  say  that  he, 
the  bishop,  not  'Ivanhoe,'  was  talking  what  in  ordinary 
slang  is  called  tommyrot?" 

I  finished  dealing  and,  after  glancing  rather  inatten- 
tively at  my  cards,  declared  hearts. 

Dodds,  who  was  sitting  on  my  left,  picked  up  his  hand 
and  doubled  my  hearts.  He  did  so  in  a  tone  that  con- 
vinced me  that  I  had  been  rash  in  my  declaration.  He 
paid  no  attention  whatever  to  my  question  about  the 
bishop  and  "Ivanhoe."  It  turned  out  that  he  had  a 
remarkably  good  hand  and  he  scored  thirty-two  below 
the  line,  which  of  course  gave  him  the  game.  Mrs. 
Dodds,  who  was  my  partner,  seemed  temporarily  soured, 
and  while  Dodds  was  explaining  to  us  how  well  he  had 
played,  she  took  up  the  question  about  the  bishop. 

"I'd  be  thinking,"  she  said,  "that  that  bishop  of  yours 
had  very  little  to  do  to  be  talking  that  way.  I'd  say 
he'd  be  the  kind  of  man  who'd  declare  hearts  with  no 
more  than  one  honour  on  his  hand  and  that  the  queen. 


92  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

This  rather  nettled  me,  for  I  quite  realized  that  my 
hand  did  not  justify  a  heart  declaration.  I  had  made 
it  inadvertently  my  mind  being  occupied  with  more 
important  matters. 

"Of  course,"  I  said,  "you're  prejudiced  in  favour  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott.  You  Scotch  are  all  the  same.  A 
word  against  Sir  Walter  or  Robbie  Burns  is  enough  for 
you.  But  I'll  put  another  case  to  you:  Supposing  a 
bishop  —  understanding  the  word  as  I've  explained  it  — 
were  to  say  that  infant  schools  are  a  danger  to  public 
morality  on  account  of  the  way  that  boys  and  girls 
are  mixed  up  together  in  the  same  classrooms,  would  he, 
in  your  opinion ?" 

Dodds  has  a  horribly  coarse  mind.  He  stopped  deal- 
ing and  grinned.  Then  he  winked  at  the  young  engineer 
who  sat  opposite  to  him.  He,  I  was  pleased  to  see,  had 
the  grace  to  look  embarrassed.  Mrs.  Dodds,  who  of 
course  knows  how  her  husband  revels  in  anything  which 
can  be  twisted  into  impropriety,  interrupted  me  with  a 
question  asked  in  a  very  biting  tone. 

"Is  it  chess  you  think  you  are  playing  the  now,  or  is 
it  bridge?" 

I  had  to  let  the  next  deal  pass  without  any  further 
attempt  to  discover  Dodds's  opinion  about  tommyrot. 
I  was  trying  to  think  out  what  Mrs.  Dodds  meant  by 
accusing  me  of  wanting  to  play  chess.  It  struck  me  as 
an  entirely  gratuitous  and,  using  the  word  in  its  original 
sense,  impertinent  suggestion.  Nothing  I  had  said 
seemed  in  any  way  to  imply  that  I  was  thinking  of 
chess.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  detest  the  game  and 
never  play  it.  I  suppose  I  am  slow-witted,  but  it  did 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  93 

not  occur  to  me  for  quite  a  long  time,  that,  being  a 
Scotch  Presbyterian,  the  mention  of  bishops  was  more 
likely  to  call  up  to  her  mind  the  pieces  which  sidle 
obliquely  across  a  chessboard  than  living  men  of  lordly 
degree.  I  was  not  sure  in  the  end  that  I  had  tracked  her 
thought  correctly,  but  I  know  that  I  made  several  bad 
mistakes  during  the  next  and  the  following  hands. 

When  it  worked  round  to  my  turn  to  deal  again  I 
gave  out  the  cards  very  slowly  and  made  another  attempt 
to  find  out  whether  Dodds  did  or  did  not  agree  with 
Lalage  about  tommyrot. 

"Supposing,"  I  said,  "that  a  clergyman,  an  ordinary 
clergyman,  not  a  bishop,  the  kind  of  clergyman  whom 
you  would  perhaps  describe  as  a  minister,  were  to  preach 
a  sermon  about  the  British  Empire  and  were  to  say " 

"In  our  church,"  said  Mrs.  Dodds  snappily,  "the 
ministers  preach  the  Gospel." 

"I  am  convinced  of  that,"  I  said,  "but  you  must  surely 
admit  that  the  great  idea  of  the  imperial  expansion  of 
the  race,  Greater  Britain  beyond  the  seas,  and — the  White 
Man's  Burden,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing,  are  not  essen- 
tially anti-evangelical,  when  looked  at  from  the  proper 
point  of  view.  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  our  hypo- 
thetical clergyman  were  to  take  for  his  text " 

I  laid  down  the  last  card  in  the  pack  on  my  own  pile 
and  looked  triumphantly  at  Dodds.  I  had,  at  all  events, 
not  made  a  misdeal.  Dodds  put  his  hand  down  on  his 
cards  with  a  bang.  He  has  large  red  hands,  which  swell 
out  between  the  knuckles  and  at  the  wrists.  I  saw  by 
the  way  his  fingers  were  spread  on  the  table  that  he  was 
going  to  speak  strongly.  I  recollected  then,  when  it  was 


94  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

too  late,  that  Dodds  is  an  advanced  Radical  and  absolutely 
hates  the  idea  of  imperialism.  I  tried  to  diminish  his 
wrath  by  slipping  in  an  apologetic  explanation  before  he 
found  words  to  express  his  feelings. 

"The  clergyman  I  mean,"  I  said,  "isn't  —  he's  purely 
imaginary,  but  if  he  had  any  real  existence  he  wouldn't 
belong  to  your  church.  He'd  be  a  bishop." 

"He'd  better,"  said  Dodds  grimly. 

I  felt  so  much  depressed  that  I  declared  spades  at 
once.  I  gathered  from  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  that 
if  the  clergyman  who  preached  imperialism  came  within 
the  jurisdiction  of  Dodds,  or  for  the  matter  of  that  of 
Mrs.  Dodds,  it  would  be  the  worse  for  him.  By  far  his 
best  chance  of  a  peaceful  life  was  to  be  a  bishop  and  not 
to  live  in  Scotland.  This  was  a  great  deal  worse  than 
Lalage's  way  of  treating  him.  She  merely  sported, 
pursuing  him  with  gay  ridicule,  mangling  his  pet  quo- 
tations, smiling  at  his  swelling  rotundities.  Dodds  would 
have  sent  him  to  the  stake  without  an  opportunity 
for  recantation. 

I  lost  altogether  seven  shillings  during  the  evening, 
which  represents  a  considerable  run  of  bad  luck,  for  we 
never  played  for  more  than  a  shilling  for  each  hundred 
points.  Mrs.  Dodds,  of  course,  lost  the  same  amount. 
I  tried  to  make  it  up  to  her  next  day  by  sending  her, 
anonymously,  six  pairs  of  gloves.  She  must  have  known 
that  they  came  from  me  for  she  was  very  gracious  and 
friendly  next  evening.  But  for  a  long  time  afterward 
Dodds  used  to  annoy  her  by  proposing  to  talk  about 
bishops  and  infant  schools  whenever  she  happened  to 
be  my  partner. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  WEEK  passed  without  my  hearing  anything  from 
home  about  Lalage's  Gazette.  My  mother's 
weekly  letter  —  she  wrote  regularly  every  Sunday  after- 
noon —  contained  nothing  but  the  usual  chronicle  of 
minor  events.  I  had  no  other  regular  correspondent. 
The  Archdeacon  had  written  me  eleven  letters  since  I 
left  home,  all  of  them  dealing  with  church  finance  and 
asking  for  subscriptions.  Canon  Beresford  never  wrote 
to  me  at  all.  I  was  beginning  to  hope  that  the  Anti- 
Tommy-Rot  Gazette  had  failed  to  catch  the  eye  —  ought 
I  to  say  the  ear?  —  of  the  public.  This  would  of  course 
be  a  disappointment  to  Lalage,  perhaps  also  to  Hilda 
and  Selby-Harrison,  but  it  would  be  a  great  relief  to  me. 
The  more  I  thought  of  it  the  more  I  disliked  the  idea  of 
being  identified  with  the  generous  gentleman  whose  timely 
aid  had  rendered  the  publication  possible. 

My  hopes  were  shattered  by  the  arrival  of  no  less  than 
six  letters  by  one  post.  One  of  them  was  addressed  in 
my  mother's  writing,  and  I  feared  the  worst  when  I  saw 
it.  It  was  quite  the  wrong  day  for  a  letter  from  her,  and 
I  knew  that  nothing  except  a  serious  disaster  would 
induce  her  to  break  through  her  regular  rule  of  Sunday 
writing.  Another  of  the  letters  came  from  the  Arch- 
deacon. I  knew  his  hand.  Two  of  the  other  envelopes 
bore  handwritings  which  I  did  not  recognize.  The 

90 


96  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

addresses  of  the  remaining  two  were  typewritten.  I 
turned  them  all  over  thoughtfully  and  decided  to  open 
my  mother's  first.  She  made  no  attempt  to  soften 
the  shock  I  suffered  by  breaking  her  news  to  me  grad- 
ually. 

"Lalage  appears  to  have  excelled  herself  in  her  latest 
escapade.  I  only  heard  about  it  this  morning  and  have 
not  had  time  to  verify  the  details  of  the  story;  but  I 
think  it  better  to  write  to  you  at  once  in  case  you  should 
hear  an  exaggerated  version  from  some  one  else." 

My  mother  is  very  thoughtful  and  kind;  but  in  this 
particular  case,  needlessly  so.  I  was  not  in  the  least 
likely  to  hear  an  exaggerated  version  of  Lalage's  per- 
formance from  any  source;  because  no  one  in  the  world, 
not  even  a  politician,  could  exaggerate  the  truth  about 
the  Anti-Tommy-Rot  Gazette, 

My  mother  went  on: 

"You  appear  to  be  mixed  up  in  the  affair,  and,  on 
the  whole,  I  advise  you  to  get  out  of  it  at  once  if 
you  can.  Your  uncle,  who  takes  these  matters  very 
seriously,  is  greatly  annoyed.  Lalage  appears  to 
have  published  something,  a  pamphlet  probably,  but 
report  says  variously  a  book,  a  magazine,  and  a  news- 
paper. I  have  not  seen  a  copy  myself,  though  I  tele- 
graphed to  Dublin  for  one  as  soon  as  the  news  of  its 
publication  reached  me.  Your  uncle,  who  heard  about 
it  at  the  club,  says  it  is  scurrilous.  He  sent  out  for  a 
copy,  but  was  informed  by  the  news  agent  that  the  whole 
issue  was  sold  out.  The  Archdeacon  was  the  first  to 
tell  me  about  it.  He  had  been  in  Dublin  attending  a 
meeting  of  the  Church  Representative  Body  and  he  says 
that  the  general  opinion  there  is  that  it  is  blasphemous. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  97 

Even  the  Canon  is  a  good  deal  upset  and  has  gone  away 
for  a  holiday  to  the  north  of  Scotland.  I  had  a  postcard 
from  him  to-day  with  a  picture  of  the  town  hall  at  Wick 
on  the  back  of  it.  He  wrote  nothing  except  the  words, 
'Virtute  mea  me  unvolvo.'  I  have  Latin  enough  to  guess 
that  this  —  is  it  a  quotation  from  his  favourite  Horace? 
—  is  a  description  of  his  own  attitude  toward  Lalage's 
performance.  Miss  Pettigrew,  who  is  greatly  interested, 
and  I  think  on  the  whole  sympathetic  with  Lalage,  writes 
that  eighteen  bishops  have  already  begun  actions  for 
libel,  and  that  three  more  are  expected  to  do  so  as  soon 
as  they  recover  from  fits  of  nervous  prostration  brought 
on  by  Lalage's  attacks  on  them.  A  postscript  to  her 
letter  gets  nearer  than  anything  else  I  have  come  across 
to  giving  a  coherent  account  of  what  has  actually  taken 
place.  'Lalage,'  she  writes,  'has  shown  a  positively 
diabolical  ingenuity  in  picking  out  for  the  pillory  all 
the  most  characteristically  episcopal  utterances  for  the 
last  two  years.'  You  will  understand  better  than  I  do 
what  this  means." 

I  did  understand  what  Miss  Pettigrew  meant,  but  I 
do  not  think  that  Lalage  ought  to  be  given  the  whole 
credit.  Selby-Harrison  did  the  research. 

My  mother  went  on: 

"Father  Maconchy,  the  P.P.,  "stopped  me  on  the 
road  this  afternoon  to  say  that  he  hoped  there  was 
no  truth  in  the  report  that  you  are  mixed  up  in  what 
he  calls  a  disgraceful  attempt  at  proselytizing.  The 
Archdeacon  tells  me  that  in  ecclesiastical  circles 
(his,  not  Father  Maconchy's,  ecclesiastical  circles)  you 
are  credited  with  having  urged  Lalage  on,  and  says  he 
fears  your  reputation  will  suffer." 

I  put  the  letter  down  at  this  point  and  swore.    Ex- 


98  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

treme  stupidity  always  makes  me  swear.  It  is  almost 
the  only  thing  in  the  world  which  does.  The  Arch- 
deacon, who  has  been  acquainted  with  Lalage  since  her 
birth,  ought  to  have  more  sense  than  to  suppose,  or  allow 
any  one  else  to  suppose,  that  she  ever  required  urging 
on.  Even  Father  Maconchy's  reading  of  the  situation 
was  intelligent  compared  to  that. 

"Miss  Pettigrew  says  that  the  Trinity  College  author- 
ities have  taken  the  matter  up  and  are  strongly  of 
opinion  that  you  are  financing  the  publication.  Thor- 
manby  tells  me  that  the  same  rumour  is  current  in  the 
club.  He  heard  it  from  five  or  six  different  men,  and  says 
he  has  been  written  to  about  the  matter  since  he  came 
home  by  people  who  are  most  anxious  about  your  con- 
nection with  it.  I  do  not  know  what  to  believe,  and  I 
do  not  want  to  press  my  opinion  on  you,  but  if,  without 
making  things  worse  for  Lalage  than  they  are  at 
present,  you  can  disclaim  responsibility  for  the  publi- 
cation, whatever  it  is,  it  will  probably  be  wise  for  you 
to  do  so." 

It  did  not  seem  to  me  to  matter,  after  reading  what 
my  mother  said,  which  of  the  other  letters  I  took  next. 
I  tried  one  of  the  two  which  bore  typewritten  addresses, 
in  the  hope  that  it  might  be  nothing  worse  than  a  bill. 
It  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  a  statement  of  accounts. 
The  first  sheet  ran  thus: 

ANTI-TOMMY-ROT    GAZETTE    GUARANTEE   FUND 

Trinity  College,  Dublin,  No.  175,  and  at  the  rooms  of  the  Elizabethan 

Society 

Debtor  and  Creditor  Account 
To  8  per  cent,  due  on  one  third  of  £30,  being  amount  of  guarantee 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  99 

for  one  month  as  per  agreement  signed  August  9th,  ult.,  equals  Is.  4<f. 
(say,  one  shilling  and  fourpence). 
Examined  and  found  correct 

J.  SELBY-HARRISON. 

Stamps  (Is.  4d.)  enclosed  to  balance  account.    Please  acknowledge 
receipt. 

It  is  very  gratifying  to  a  guarantor  to  receive  interest 
on  his  promise  in  this  prompt  and  business-like  way,  but 
I  am  not  sure  that  8  per  cent,  will  be  sufficient  to  com- 
pensate me  for  the  trouble  I  shall  have  in  explaining  my 
position  to  the  Board  of  Trinity  College,  the  Represen- 
tative Body  of  the  Church  of  Ireland,  the  Standing  Com- 
mittee of  the  Roman  Catholic  Hierarchy,  the  Presby- 
terian General  Assembly,  and  the  committee  of  the 
Kildare  Street  Club.  The  next  sheet  of  Selby-Harrison's 
accounts  was  equally  business-like  in  form. 

ANTI-TOMMY -RoT  GAZETTE  GUARANTEE  FUND 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  No.  175,  and  at  the  rooms  of  the  Elizabethan 

Society 
Per  Contra. 

By  one  third  of  £80,  being  amount  of  guarantee  for  one  month  as 
per  agreement  signed  August  9th,  ult.,  £10,  less  payment  by  adver- 
tiser for  single  insertion,  being  one  twelfth  of  7s.  9d.,  contract  price 
for  year,  7.75  pence  equals  £9-19-4.25  (say  nine  pounds  nineteen 
shillings  and  fourpence  farthing)  now  due  by  guarantor. 
Examined  and  found  correct 
Kindly  remit  at  once  to  avoid  legal  proceedings. 

J.  SELBY-HARRISON. 

The  last  thing  in  the  world  I  wanted  was  further  legal 
proceedings.  With  eighteen  libel  actions  pending  and 


100  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

three  more  threatened  in  the  near  future,  the  Irish  courts 
would  be  kept  busy  enough  without  being  forced  to  deal 
with  a  writ  issued  by  Selby-Harrison  against  me.  I 
sat  down  at  once  and  remitted,  making  out  my  cheque 
for  the  round  sum  of  £10,  and  telling  Selby-Harrison  that 
he  could  set  the  extra  7.75  pence  against  postage  and 
petty  cash.  I  pointed  out  at  the  same  time  that  the 
advertiser,  considering  the  unexpectedly  wide  publicity 
which  had  been  given  to  his  desire  for  second-hand 
feather  beds,  had  got  off  ridiculously  cheap.  I  suggested  . 
that  he  might,  if  approached,  agree  to  pay  the  extra  .25 
of  a  penny. 

I  turned  over  the  other  three  envelopes  and  chose  for 
my  next  experiment  one  addressed  in  a  delicate  female 
hand.  It  seemed  to  me  scarcely  possible  that  letters 
formed  as  these  were  could  convey  sentiments  of  any  but 
a  fragrant  kind.  I  turned  out  to  be  mistaken.  This 
letter  was  more  pitiless  even  than  Selby-Harrison's  stark 
mathematical  statements. 


"Owing  to  the  incessant  worry  and  annoyance  of 
the  last  three  days  I  am  prostrate  with  a  bad  attack 
of  my  old  enemy  and  am  obliged  to  dictate  this 
letter." 


The  signature,  written  with  evident  pain,  told  me 
that  the  dictator  was  my  Uncle  Thormanby.  The 
"old  enemy"  was,  as  I  knew,  gout. 

"Miss  Battersby  is  acting  as  my  amanuensis." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  101 

For  the  fifth  or  sixth  time  in  my  life  I  felt  sorry  for 
Miss  Battersby. 

"Canon  Beresford's  girl  has  libelled  eighty  or  ninety 
bishops  in  the  most  outrageous  way.  I  am  not  sure  of 
the  law,  but  I  sincerely  hope  that  it  may  be  found  pos- 
sible to  send  her  to  gaol  with  hard  labour  for  a  term  of 
years.  Not  that  I  care  what  she  says  about  bishops. 
They  probably  deserve  all  they  get  and  in  any  case  it's 
no  business  of  mine.  What  annoys  me  is  that  she  has 
mixed  you  up  in  the  scandal.  Old  Tollerton  was  snig- 
gering about  the  club  in  the  most  disgusting  way  the  day 
before  yesterday,  and  telling  every  one  that  you  were 
financing  the  minx.  He  says  he  has  it  on  the  best  author- 
ity. 

"I  found  a  letter  waiting  for  me  when  I  came  home 
from  the  secretary  of  the  Conservative  and  Unionist 
Parliamentary  Association,  asking  me  if  the  rumour  was 
true.  I  had  just  arranged  with  them  to  put  you  up  for 
the  East  Connor  division  of  Down  at  the  general  election 
and  everything  was  looking  rosy.  Then  this  confounded 
stinkpot  of  a  bombshell  burst  in  our  midst.  That  out- 
rageous brat  of  Beresford's  ought  to  be  soundly  whipped. 
I  always  said  so  and  it  turns  out  now  that  I  was  perfectly 
right. 

"I  need  scarcely  tell  you  that  if  your  name  is  con- 
nected with  these  libel  actions  in  any  way  your  chance  of 
election  won't  be  worth  two  pence.  The  Nationalist 
blackguards  would  make  the  most  of  it,  of  course,  and 
I  don't  see  how  our  people  could  defend  you  without 
bringing  the  parsons  and  Presbyterian  ministers  out  like 
wasps. 

"I  have  authoritatively  denied  that  you  have,  or 
ever  had,  any  connection  with  or  knowledge  of  the  scur- 
rilous print;  so  I  beg  that  you  will  at  once  withdraw  the 
guarantee  which  I  understand  you  have  given.  If  you 


102  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

don't  do  this  my  position,  as  well  as  your  own,  will  be 
infernally  awkward.  I  wanted  to  get  a  hold  of  Beres- 
ford  to-day,  but  hear  that  he  has  gone  to  Iceland.  Just 
like  him !  I  thought  I  might  have  bullied  him  into  taking 
the  responsibility  and  clearing  you.  The  Archdeacon 
won't.  I  tried  him.  Tollerton,  who  insisted  on  sitting 
next  me  at  luncheon  in  the  club,  says  that  you  may  be 
able  to  hush  the  thing  up  by  offering  to  build  a  new 
church  for  each  of  the  bishops  named.  This  would 
cost  thousands  and  cripple  you  for  the  rest  of  your  life,  so 
we  won't  make  any  overtures  in  that  direction  till  every- 
thing else  fails.  Tollerton  always  makes  the  worst 
of  everything.  They  say  he  has  Bright's  disease.  I 
shan't  be  sorry  when  he's  gone;  but  if  I  have  to  go 
through  much  more  worry  of  this  kind  it's  likely  enough 
that  he'll  see  me  out." 


With  this  letter  was  enclosed  a  small  slip  of  paper 
bearing  a  message  which  appeared  to  have  been  very 
hurriedly  written. 


"Please  do  not  be  too  angry  with  Lalage.  I'm  sure 
she  did  not  mean  any  harm.  She  is  a  very  high-spirited 
girl,  but  most  affectionate.  I'm  so  sorry  about  it  all 
especially  for  your  poor  mother. 

"AMELIE  BATTEKSBY." 


Miss  Battersby  need  not  have  made  her  appeal. 
Even  if  I  had  been  very  angry  with  Lalage  my  uncle's 
letter  would  have  softened  my  heart  toward  her.  She 
deserved  well  and  not  ill  of  me.  The  decision  of  the 
Conservative  and  Unionist  Parliamentary  Association 
came  on  me  as  a  shock.  I  had  no  idea  that  my  uncle 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  103 

was  negotiating  with  them  on  my  behalf.  If  Lalage's 
Gazette  disgusted  them  with  me  and  made  it  obvious 
that  I  could  not  succeed  as  a  candidate  in  the  East 
Connor  Division  of  County  Down  I  should  be  greatly 
pleased,  and  my  ten  pounds,  or  whatever  larger  sum 
might  be  required  to  pacify  the  fiercest  of  the  bishops, 
would  be  very  well  spent. 

I  opened  the  Archdeacon's  letter  next.  It  was,  with 
the  exception  of  Selby-Harrison's,  the  shortest  of  the 
whole  batch. 

"I  write,  not  in  anger  but  in  sorrow.  Lalage,  whom 
I  can  only  think  of  as  a  dear  but  misguided  child,  has 
been  led  away  by  the  influence  of  undesirable  companions 
into  a  grievous  mistake.  I  shrink  from  applying  a 
severer  word.  As  a  man  of  the  world  I  cannot  shut  my 
eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  money,  the  considerable  sum  of 
money,  which  you  have  placed  at  the  disposal  of  these 
young  people  has  proved  a  temptation,  not  to  Lalage,  but 
to  those  with  whom  she  has  unfortunately  associated 
herself.  In  the  event  of  your  deciding,  as  I  strongly 
urge  you  to  do,  to  withdraw  your  financial  guarantee, 
these  unscrupulous  persons,  seeing  no  prospect  of  further 
profit,  will  no  doubt  cease  to  lead  Lalage  astray." 

The  idea  in  the  Archdeacon's  mind  evidently  was  that 
Selby-Harrison  and  Hilda  had  exploited  Lalage,  and 
obtained  the  money  for  unhallowed  revellings,  from  me. 
I  should  like  to  hear  Hilda's  mother's  opinion  of  the 
Archdeacon's  view.  Its  injustice  was  of  course  quite 
evident  to  me.  I  had  Selby-Harrison's  accounts  before 
me,  and  nothing  could  be  clearer  than  they  were.  Besides 
I  knew  from  my  mother's  letter  that  what  the  Archdeacon 


104  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

now  said  about  Selby-Harrison  and  Hilda  he  had  orig- 
inally said  about  me.  When  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  about  the  publication  of  the  Anti-Tommy-Rot 
Gazette  is  published,  it  will  be  recognized  that  Selby- 
Harrison,  Hilda,  and  I,  so  far  from  urging  Lalage  on 
or  leading  her  astray,  were  from  first  to  last  little 
more  than  tools  for  her  use,  clay  in  her  potter's 
hands. 

My  fifth  letter  turned  out  to  be  from  the  Provost  of 
Trinity  College.  It  was  written  in  very  courteous  terms 
and  was,  on  the  whole,  the  most  encouraging  I  had  yet 
read. 

He  wrote: 

"You  must  forgive  my  meddling  in  your  affairs, 
and  accept  the  fact  that  I  am,  in  some  sense,  an  old 
family  friend,  as  my  excuse  for  offering  you  a  word 
of  advice.  I  knew  your  father  before  you  were  born, 
and  as  a  young  man  I  often  dined  at  your  grandfather's 
table.  This  gives  me  a  kind  of  right  to  make  a  suggestion 
which  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  take  in  good  part.  Three 
young  people,  who  as  students  in  this  college  are  more  or 
less  under  my  charge,  have  got  into  a  scrape  which  might 
very  well  be  serious  but  which,  I  hope,  will  turn  out  in 
the  end  to  be  merely  ridiculous.  They  have  print- 
ed and  published  a  small  magazine  in  which  no  less 
than  twenty-one  of  the  Irish  bishops  are  fiercely 
attacked. 

"It  is  only  fair  to  say  that  they  have  been  actuated  by 
no  sectarian  spirit.  They  are  equally  severe  on  Pro- 
testant and  Roman  Catholic  ecclesiastics.  The  publi- 
cation was  at  once  brought  under  my  notice,  and  I  could 
do  nothing  else  but  send  for  the  delinquents.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  praiseworthy  than  their  candour. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  105 

They  gave  me  an  account  of  the  purpose  of  their  society 
-  they  have  formed  a  society  —  which  showed  that  their 
objects  were  not  in  any  way  vicious,  although  the  means 
they  adopted  for  furthering  them  were  highly  culpable. 
I  spoke  to  them  strongly,  very  strongly  indeed,  and  I 
trust  made  some  impression  on  them.  At  the  same  time 
I  must  confess  that  one  of  them,  Miss  Lalage  Beresford, 
displayed  the  greatest  determination  and  absolutely 
declined  to  give  me  a  promise  that  the  publication  of 
the  magazine  would  be  discontinued,  except  on  condi- 
tions which  I  could  not  possibly  consider.  You  will 
recognize  at  once  that  for  Miss  Lalage's  own  sake, 
as  well  as  for  the  sake  of  college  discipline,  I  cannot 
have  any  further  publication  of  the  Anti-Tommy-Rot 
Gazette. 

"At  the  same  time  I  am  unwilling  to  proceed  to  extremi- 
ties against  her  or  either  of  the  others.  They  are  all 
young  and  will  learn  sense  in  due  time.  It  occurs  to 
me  that  perhaps  the  simplest  way  out  of  the  difficulty 
will  be  for  you  to  withdraw  the  guarantee  of  financial 
assistance  which,  as  I  understand,  you  have  given.  If 
you  are  prepared  to  support  me  in  this  way  I  may  safely 
promise  that  no  further  notice  of  the  absurd  publica- 
tion will  be  taken  by  the  college  authorities.  There 
are  rumours  of  libel  actions  pending,  but  I  think 
we  may  disregard  them.  No  damages  can  be  ob- 
tained from  you  beyond  the  amount  of  your  orig- 
inal guarantee,  which,  I  understand,  did  not  amount 
to  more  than  £30.  All  the  other  defendants  are 
minors,  dependent  entirely  on  their  parents  for  their 
support,  so  the  aggrieved  parties  will  probably  not 
proceed  far  with  their  action.  If  you  agree  to  stop 
supplies  and  so  prevent  the  possibility  of  further  pub- 
lication, I  shall  use  my  influence  to  have  the  whole 
affair  hushed  up." 

There  remained  only  the  fifth  letter;  the  second  of  those 


106  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

which  bore  a  typewritten  address.    I  opened   it  and 
found  that  it  came  from  Lalage. 
She  wrote: 

"We  have  only  been  able,  to  hire  this  typewriter 
for  one  week  so  I'm  practising  hard  at  it.  That  is 
why  I'm  typing  this  letter.  Please  excuse  mistakes." 

There  were  a  good  many  mistakes  but  I  excused  them. 

"Your  copy  of  the  Anti-Tommy-Rot  Gazette  went  to 
you  first  thing.  Hilda  nearly  forgot  to  post  it,  but  didn't 
quite,  which  was  lucky,  for  all  the  rest  were  seized  from 
us,  except  nine,  which  Selby-Harrison  gave  to  a  news 
agent,  who  sold  them  but  didn't  pay  us,  though  he  may 
yet.  Hard  Luck,  I  call  that.  Don't  you?  Some  ass 
sent  a  copy,  marked,  to  the  Prov.  and  the  next  thing  we 
knew  was  that  both  offices  were  raided  by  college  porters 
and  our  property  stolen  by  force.  We  were  furious,  but 
before  we  could  take  any  action  —  we  were  going  to 
consult  a  lawyer,  a  K.C.,  whose  son  happens  to  be  a 
friend  of  Selby-Harrison's  on  account  of  being  captain 
of  Trinity  3rd  A  (hockey),  in  which  Selby-Harrison  plays 
halfback  —  our  doom  was  upon  us  and  Selby-Harrison 
was  sent  for  by  the  Prov.  He  came  back  shattered,  like 
that  telescope  man  who  got  caught  by  the  Inquisition, 
having  spent  hours  on  the  rack  and  nearly  had  his  face 
eaten  off  as  well.  Our  turn  came  next.  We  (Hilda  and 
I)  had  just  time  to  dart  off  on  top  of  a  tram  to  Trinity 
Hall  (that's  where  we  have  our  rooms,  you  know,  of 
course,  and  jump  into  our  best  frocks  before  1  P.M.,  the 
hour  of  our  summons  to  the  august  presence.  Hilda's 
is  a  tussore  silk,  frightfully  sweet,  and  I  had  a  blouse 
with  a  lot  of  Carrickmacross  lace  on  it. 

"Hilda  was  in  a  pea-blue  funk  when  it  came  to  the 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  107 

moment  and  kept  pulling  at  her  left  glove  until  she  tore 
the  button  off.  I  was  a  bit  jellyfishy  myself  down  the 
back;  but  I  needn't  have  been.  The  minute  I  got  into 
the  room  I  could  see  that  the  old  Prov.  was  a  perfect 
pet  and  didn't  really  mean  anything,  though  he  tried  to 
look  as  if  he  did." 


I  have  always  disliked  the  modern  system  of  co-education 
and  after  reading  Lalage's  letter  I  was  strongly  inclined 
to  agree  with  the  bishop  who  wants  to  stamp  it  out, 
beginning  with  the  infant  schools.  I  do  not  agree  with 
his  reasoning.  My  objection  —  it  applies  particularly 
to  the  admission  of  grown-up  young  women  to  univer- 
sities —  is  that  even-handed  justice  is  never  administered. 
The  girls  get  off  cheap.  Some  day,  perhaps,  we  shall 
have  a  lady  presiding  as  provost  over  one  of  our  great 
universities.  Then  the  inequalities  of  our  present  ar- 
rangements will  be  balanced  by  others.  The  Lalages 
and  Hildas  of  those  days  will  spend  hours  upon  the  rack. 
If  they  are  fools  enough  to  jump  into  tussore  frocks  and 
blouses  with  Carrickmacross  lace  on  them  before  being 
admitted  to  the  august  presence,  they  will  have  their 
faces  eaten  off  as  well.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Selby- 
Harrisons,  if  reasonably  good-looking  young  men,  will 
find  the  Prov.  a  perfect  pet,  who  doesn't  really  mean 
anything;  who,  perhaps,  will  not  even  try  to  look  as  if 
she  does. 


"He  jawed  a  lot,  of  course,  but  we  did  not  mind  that 
a  bit;  at  least  I  didn't,  for  I  knew  he  only  did  it  because  he 
had  to.  In  the  end  he  asked  us  to  promise  not  to  annoy 
bishops  any  more.  Hilda  promised.  Rather  base  of 


108  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

her,  I  call  it;  but  by  that  time  she  had  dragged  the  second 
button  off  her  glove  and  would  have  promised  simply 
anything.  I  stuck  on  and  said  I  wouldn't.  He  seemed 
a  bit  put  out,  and  he'd  been  such  a  dear  about  the  whole 
thing  that  I  hated  having  to  refuse  him.  You  know 
the  sort  of  way  you  feel  when  somebody,  that  you  want 
frightfully  to  do  things  for,  will  clamour  on  for  what  you 
know  is  wrong.  That's  the  way  I  was  and  at  last  I 
couldn't  stand  it  any  more,  so  I  said  I'd  promise  on  con- 
dition that  the  bishops  all  undertook  not  to  say  any  more 
silly  things  except  in  church.  That  was  as  far  as  I 
could  well  go  and  I  thought  the  Prov.  would  have  jumped 
at  the  offer.  Instead  of  which  he  first  scowled  in  a  very 
peculiar  way  and  then  his  face  all  wrinkled  up  and  got 
quite  red  so  that  I  thought  he  was  going  to  get  some 
kind  of  fit.  Without  saying  another  word  he  in  a  sort 
of  way  hustled  us  out  of  the  room.  That  was  the  only 
really  rude  thing  he  did  to  us;  but  Selby-Harrison  sticks 
to  it  that  he  was  perfectly  awful  to  him.  We  don't 
quite  know  what  will  happen  next,  but  both  the  other 
two  think  that  we'd  better  not  have  the  college  porters 
arrested  for  stealing  the  magazines.  I'd  like  to,  but,  of 
course,  they  are  two  to  one.  Selby-Harrison  is  looking 
like  a  sick  turkey  and  is  constantly  sighing.  He  says 
he  thinks  he'll  have  to  be  a  doctor  now.  He  had  meant 
to  go  into  the  Divinity  School  and  be  ordained  but 
after  what  the  Provost  said  to  him  he  doesn't  see  how 
he  can.  Rather  rough  luck  on  him,  having  to  fall 
back  on  the  medical;  but  I  don't  think  he'll  mind 
much  in  the  end,  except  that  he  doubts  whether  his 
father  can  afford  the  fees.  That  will  be  a  difficulty,  if 
true." 

I  wonder  what  the  fees  amount  to.  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  it  is  my  duty  to  see  Selby-Harrison  through. 
I  should  not  like  to  think  of  his  whole  career  being 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  109 

wrecked.  At  the  same  time  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
it  would  be  waste  to  turn  him  into  a  doctor.  He  ought 
to  make  his  mark  as  a  chartered  accountant  if  he  gets  a 
chance.  I  shall  speak  to  my  mother  about  him  when 
I  go  home  and  see  what  she  suggests. 

"Hilda's  mother  has  written  saying  that  Hilda  is  not 
to  spend  next  hols  with  me;  which  was  all  arranged  before 
the  fuss  began.  I  can't  see  what  objection  she  can 
possibly  have.  Anyhow  it  is  frightful  tyranny  and  of 
course  we  don't  mean  to  stand  it.  Selby-Harrison  says 
that  perhaps  if  you  wrote  to  her  she  would  give  in;  but 
I  don't  want  you  to  do  this.  I  hate  crawling,  especially 
to  Hilda's  mother  and  people  like  that,  but  if  you  like 
to  do  it  you  can.  Selby-Harrison  says  that  your  mother 
being  an  honourable,  will  make  a  lot  of  difference,  though 
I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  me.  Still  if  you 
think  it  will  be  any  use  there's  no  reason  why  you 
shouldn't  mention  it.  Hilda  has  cried  buckets  full 
since  the  letter  came." 

I  am  sorry  for  Hilda  but  I  shall  not  write  to  her  mother. 
I  have  enough  on  my  hands  without  that.  Besides,  as 
Lalage  says,  I  do  not  see  the  connection  between  my 
mother's  position  in  society  and  Hilda's  mother's  schemes 
for  her  daughter's  holidays. 

"P.S.  I  hope  you  got  your  8  per  cent,  all  right.  I  told 
Selby-Harrison  to  send  it.  We  were  all  three  stony  at 
the  time  and  had  to  borrow  it  from  another  girl  who  is 
going  in  for  logic  honours,  but  she's  quite  rich,  so  it 
doesn't  matter.  Hilda  didn't  want  to,  and  said  she'd 
give  her  two  gold  safety  pins,  which  she  got  last  Christ- 
mas, if  Selby-Harrison  would  pawn  them  for  her.  But 


110  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

he  wouldn't,  and  I  thought  it  was  hardly  worth  while 
for  the  sake  of  one  and  fourpence,  besides  making  her 
mother  more  furious  than  ever.  We  ought  not  to  have 
had  to  borrow  more  than  fourpence,  for  Selby-Harrison 
had  a  shilling  the  night  before,  but  went  and  spent  it 
on  having  a  Turkish  bath.  Rather  a  rotten  thing  to  do, 
I  think,  when  we  owed  it.  But  he  said  he'd  forgotten 
about  the  8  per  cent,  and  had  to  have  the  Turkish  bath  on 
account  of  the  way  the  Prov.  talked  to  him.  That  was 
yesterday,  of  course,  not  to-day. 

I  was  glad  when  I  read  this  that  I  had  made  out  my 
cheque  for  the  whole  ten  pounds.  Selby-Harrison  will 
be  in  a  position  to  pay  the  other  girl  back.  She  may  be 
quite  rich,  but  she  will  not  like  being  done  out  of  her 
money.  The  fact  that  she  is  going  in  for  logic  honours 
shows  me  that  she  has  a  precise  kind  of  mind  and  a  good 
deal  of  quiet  determination.  I  should  be  surprised  if  she 
submitted  meekly  to  the  loss  of  one  and  fourpence. 

"P.P.S.  I  always  forget  to  tell  you  that  Pussy  (Miss 
Battersby)  says  she  left  a  hat  pin  with  a  silver  swallow 
on  the  end  of  it  in  that  first  hotel  in  Lisbon.  Would 
you  mind  going  in  the  next  day  you  are  passing  and  ask- 
ing for  it?  I  hate  to  bother  you  and  I  wouldn't,  only 
that  we  don't  any  of  us  remember  the  name  of  the  hotel 
and  so  can't  write." 

I  rather  shrank  from  asking  that  hotel  keeper  for  a 
pin  supposed  to  have  been  dropped  in  one  of  his  bed- 
rooms during  the  previous  August.  But  Miss  Battersby, 
at  least,  does  not  deserve  to  suffer.  I  spent  a  long  after- 
noon going  round  the  jewellers'  shops  in  Lisbon  and  in 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  111 

the  end  secured  a  pin  with  two  silver  doves  and  a  heart 
on  it.  I  sent  this  to  Miss  Battersby  and  explained  that 
it  was  the  nearest  thing  to  her  original  swallow  which  the 
hotel  keeper  had  been  able  to  find.  She  is,  fortunately, 
quite  an  easy  person  k>  please.  She  wrote  thanking  me 
for  the  trouble  I  had  taken. 


CHAPTER  IX 

1V/TY  FRIENDS  were  singularly  successful  in  their 
-L*A  negotiations  on  my  behalf.  Not  a  single  bishop 
proceeded  with  his  libel  action  against  Lalage.  Nor  was 
I  forced  to  buy  any  of  them  off  by  building  even  a  small 
cathedral.  I  attribute  our  escape  from  their  vengeance 
entirely  to  the  Provost.  His  clear  statement  of  the  im- 
possibility of  obtaining  damages  by  any  legal  process 
must  have  had  its  effect. 

Gossip  too  died  away  with  remarkable  suddenness.  I 
heard  afterward  that  old  Tollerton  got  rapidly  worse  and 
succumbed  to  his  disease,  whatever  it  was,  very  shortly 
after  his  last  interview  with  my  uncle.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  his  death  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  decay  of 
public  interest  in  the  Anti-Tommy-Rot  Gazette.  The 
Archdeacon,  who  also  was  inclined  to  talk  a  good  deal, 
had  his  mind  distracted  by  other  events.  The  bishop 
of  our  diocese  had  a  paralytic  stroke.  He  was  not  one 
of  those  whom  Lalage  libelled,  so  the  blame  for  his  mis- 
fortune cannot  be  laid  on  us.  The  Archdeacon  was, 
in  consequence,  very  fully  occupied  in  the  management 
of  diocesan  affairs  and  forgot  all  about  the  Gazette. 
Canon  Beresford  ventured  back  to  his  parish  after  a 
stay  of  six  weeks  in  Wick.  He  would  not  have  dared 
to  return  if  there  had  been  the  slightest  chance  of  the 
Archdeacon's  reverting  to  the  painful  subject  in  conver- 

112 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  113 

sation.  Had  there  been  even  the  slightest  reference  to 
it  in  the  newspapers,  Canon  Beresf ord,  instead  of  returning 
home,  would  have  gone  farther  afield  to  an  Orkney  Island 
or  the  Shetland  group,  or,  perhaps,  to  one  of  those  called 
Faroe,  which  do  not  appear  on  ordinary  maps  but  are 
believed  by  geographers  to  exist.  Thus  when  my 
mother,  in  the  course  of  one  of  her  letters,  mentioned 
casually  that  Canon  Beresford  had  lunched  with  her, 
I  knew,  as  Noah  did  when  the  dove  no  longer  returned 
to  him,  that  the  flood  had  abated. 

My  uncle  was  also  successful,  too  successful,  in  his 
effort.  His  definite  denial  of  my  connection  with  the 
Anti-Tommy-Rot  Gazette  obtained  credence  with  the  Com- 
mittee of  the  Conservative  and  Unionist  Parliamentary 
Association.  My  name  retained  its  place  on  their  books 
and  they  continued  to  put  me  forward  as  a  candidate 
for  the  East  Connor  division  of  Down  at  the  General 
Election. 

I  only  found  this  fact  out  by  degrees,  for  nobody  seemed 
to  think  it  worth  while  to  tell  me.  My  uncle  said  after- 
ward that  my  ignorance,  in  which  he  found  it  very  difficult 
to  believe,  was  entirely  my  own  fault.  I  cannot  deny 
this:  though  I  still  hold  that  I  ought  to  have  been  plainly 
informed  of  my  destiny  and  not  left  to  infer  it  from  the 
figures  in  the  accounts  which  were  sent  to  me  from  time 
to  time.  When  I  went  to  Portugal  I  left  my  money 
affairs  very  much  in  the  hands  of  my  mother  and  my 
uncle.  I  had  what  I  wanted.  They  spent  what  they 
thought  right  in  the  management  of  my  estate,  in  sub- 
scriptions and  so  forth.  The  accounts  which  they  sent 
me,  very  different  indeed  from  the  spirited  statements 


114  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

of  Selby-Harrison,  bored  me,  and  I  did  not  realize  for 
some  time  that  I  was  subscribing  handsomely  to  a  large 
number  of  local  objects  in  places  of  which  I  had  never 
even  heard  the  names.  I  now  know  that  they  are  towns 
and  villages  in  the  East  Connor  division  of  Down,  and 
my  uncle  has  told  me  that  this  kind  of  expenditure  is 
called  nursing  the  constituency. 

The  first  definite  news  of  my  candidature  came  to  me, 
curiously  enough,  from  Lalage.  She  wrote  me  a  letter 
during  the  Christmas  holidays: 


"There  was  a  party  (flappers,  with  dancing  and  a  sit- 
down  supper,  not  a  Christmas  tree)  at  Thormanby  Park 
last  night.  I  got  a  bit  fed  up  with  'the  dear  girls' 
(Cattersby's  expression)  at  about  nine  o'clock  and  slipped 
off  with  Hilda  in  hope  of  a  cigarette.  (Hilda's  mother's 
cook  got  scarlatina,  so  she  had  to  give  in  about  Hilda 
coming  here  for  the  hols  after  all.  Rather  a  climb  down 
for  her,  I  should  say.)  It  was  jolly  lucky  we  did,  as  it 
turned  out,  though  we  didn't  succeed  in  getting  the  whiff. 
Lord  Thormanby  and  the  Archdeacon  were  in  the  smok- 
ing room,  so  we  pretended  we'd  come  to  look  for  Hilda's 
pocket  snuffler.  The  Archdeacon  came  to  the  party 
with  a  niece,  in  a  green  dress,  who's  over  from  London, 
and  stiff  with  swank,  though  what  about  I  don't  know, 
for  she  can't  play  hockey  a  bit,  has  only  read  the  most 
rotten  books,  and  isn't  much  to  look  at,  though  the 
green  dress  is  rather  sweet,  with  a  lace  yoke  and  sequins 
on  the  skirt.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  going 
into  Parliament?  I'm  frightfully  keen  on  elections  and 
mean  to  go  and  help  you.  So  does  Hilda  now  that  she 
knows  about  it,  and  I  wrote  to  Selby-Harrison  this 
morning.  We've  changed  the  name  of  the  society  to 
the  Association  for  the  Suppression  of  Public  Lying 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  115 

(A.S.P.L.).  Rather  appropriate,  isn't  it,  with  a  general 
election  just  coming  on?  Of  course  you're  still  a  life 
member.  The  change  of  name  isn't  a  constitutional 
alteration.  Selby-Harrison  made  sure  of  that  before 
we  did  it,  so  it  doesn't  break  up  the  continuity,  which  is 
most  important  for  us  all.  Lord  Thormanby  and  the 
Archdeacon  were  jawing  away  like  anything  while  we  were 
searching  about  for  the  hanker,  and  took  no  notice  of  us, 
although  the  Archdeacon  is  frightfully  polite  now  as  a 
rule,  quite  different  from  what  he  used  to  be.  They 
said  the  election  was  a  soft  thing  for  you  unless  some- 
body went  and  put  up  a  third  man.  I  rather  hope  they 
will,  don't  you?  Dead  certs  are  so  rottenly  unsporting. 
I'll  have  a  meeting  of  the  committee  as  soon  as  I  get 
back  to  Dublin.  This  will  be  just  the  chance  we  want, 
for  we  haven't  had  any  sort  of  a  look  in  since  they  sup- 
pressed the  Gazette." 


I  put  this  letter  of  Lalage's  aside  and  did  not  answer 
it  for  some  time.  I  thought  that  she  and  Hilda  might 
have  misunderstood  what  my  uncle  and  the  Archdeacon 
were  saying.  I  did  not  regard  it  as  possible  that  an  im- 
portant matter  of  the  kind  should  be  settled  without  my 
knowing  anything  about  it;  and  I  expected  that  Lalage 
would  find  out  her  mistake  for  herself.  It  turned  out 
in  the  end  that  she  had  not  made  a  mistake.  Early  in 
January  I  got  three  letters,  all  marked  urgent.  One  was 
from  my  uncle,  one  from  the  secretary  of  the  Conserva- 
tive and  Unionist  Association  and  one  from  a  Mr.  Tither- 
ington,  who  seemed  to  be  a  person  of  some  importance  in 
the  East  Connor  division  of  County  Down.  They  all 
three  told  me  the  same  news.  I  had  been  unanimously 
chosen  by  the  local  association  as  Conservative  candidate 


116  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

at  the  forthcoming  general  election.  They  all  insisted 
that  I  should  go  home  at  once.  I  did  so,  but  before 
starting  I  answered  Lalage's  letter.  I  foresaw  that  the 
active  assistance  of  the  Association  for  the  Suppression 
of  Public  Lying  in  the  campaign  before  me  might  have 
very  complicated  results,  and  would  almost  certainly 
bring  on  worry.  The  local  conservative  association, 
for  instance,  might  not  care  for  Lalage.  Hardly  any 
local  conservative  association  would.  Mr.  Titherington 
might  not  hit  it  off  with  Selby-Harrison,  and  I  realized 
from  the  way  he  wrote,  that  Mr.  Titherington  was  a 
man  of  strong  character.  I  worded  my  letter  to  Lalage 
very  carefully.  I  did  not  want  to  hurt  her  feelings  by 
refusing  an  offer  which  was  kindly  meant. 

I  wrote, 

"I  need  scarcely  tell  you,  how  gladly  I  should  wel- 
come the  assistance  offered  by  the  A.S.P.L.,  if  I  had 
nothing  but  my  own  feelings  to  consider.  Speeches 
from  you  and  Hilda  would  brighten  up  what  threatens 
to  be  a  dull  affair.  Selby-Harrison's  advice  would 
be  invaluable.  But  I  cannot,  in  fairness  to  others,  ac- 
cept the  offer  unconditionally.  Selby-Harrison's  father 
ought  to  be  consulted.  He  has  already  been  put  to 
great  expense  through  his  son's  expulsion  from  the 
Divinity  School,  and  I  would  not  like,  now  that  he  has, 
I  suppose,  paid  some,  at  least,  of  the  fees  for  medical 
training,  to  put  him  to  fresh  expense  by  involving  his 
son  in  an  enterprise  which  may  very  well  result  in  his 
being  driven  from  the  dissecting  room.  Then  we  must 
think  of  Hilda's  mother.  If  she  insisted  on  Miss  Bat- 
tersby  accompanying  her  daughter  to  Portugal  in  the 
capacity  of  chaperon,  she  is  almost  certain  to  have  pre- 
judices against  electioneering  as  a  sport  for  young  girls. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  117 

"Perhaps  circumstances  have  altered  since  I  last  heard 
from  you  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  consultations  I 
suggest  unnecessary.  Mr.  Selby-Harrison  senior  and 
Hilda's  mother  may  both  have  died,  prematurely  worn 
out  by  great  anxiety.  In  that  case  I  do  not  press 
for  any  consideration  of  their  wishes.  But  if  they  still 
linger  on  I  should  particularly  wish  to  obtain  their 
approval  before  definitely  accepting  the  offer  of  the 
A.S.P.L." 

I  thought  that  a  good  letter.  It  was  possible  that  Mr. 
Selby-Harrison  had  died,  but  I  felt  sure,  judging  from 
what  I  had  heard  of  her,  that  Hilda's  mother  was  a  woman 
of  vigour  and  determination  who  would  live  as  long  as  was 
humanly  possible.  I  was  not  even  slightly  disquieted  by 
a  telegram  handed  to  me  just  before  I  left  Lisbon. 

"Letter  received.  Scruples  strictly  respected.  Other 
arrangements  in  contemplation. 

"LALAGE." 

I  forgot  all  about  the  Association  for  the  Suppression 
of  Public  Lying  and  its  offer  of  help  when  I  arrived  in 
Ireland.  Mr.  Titherington  came  up  to  Dublin  to  meet 
me  and  showed  every  sign  of  keeping  me  very  busy  in- 
deed. He  turned  out  to  be  a  timber  merchant  by  pro- 
fession, who  organized  elections  by  way  of  recreation 
whenever  opportunity  offered.  I  was  told  in  the  office 
of  the  Conservative  and  Unionist  Association  that  no 
man  living  was  more  crafty  in  electioneering  than  Mr. 
Titherington,  and  that  I  should  do  well  to  trust  myself 
entirely  to  his  guidance.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  do  so. 
My  uncle,  who  also  met  me  in  Dublin,  had  been  making 


118  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

inquiries  of  his  own  about  Mr.  Titherington  and  gave  me 
the  results  of  them  in  series  of  phrases  which,  I  felt  sure, 
he  had  picked  up  from  somebody  else.  "Titherington," 
he  said,  "has  his  finger  on  the  pulse  of  the  constituency." 
"There  isn't  a  trick  of  the  trade  but  Titherington  is 
thoroughly  up  to  it."  "For  taking  the  wind  out  of  the 
sails  of  the  other  side  Titherington  is  absolutely  A  1." 
All  this  confirmed  me  in  my  determination  to  follow  Mr. 
Titherington,  blindfold. 

The  first  time  I  met  him  he  told  me  that  we  were  going 
to  have  a  sharp  contest  and  gave  me  the  impression  that 
he  was  greatly  pleased.  A  third  candidate  had  taken  the 
field,  a  man  in  himself  despicable,  whose  election  was  an 
impossibility;  but  capable  perhaps  of  detaching  from  me 
a  number  of  votes  sufficient  to  put  the  Nationalist  in  the 
majority. 

"And  O'Donoghue,  let  me  tell  you,"  said  Tither- 
ington, "is  a  smart  man  and  a  right  good  speaker." 

"I'm  not,"   I  said. 

"I  can  see  that." 

I  do  not  profess  to  know  how  he  saw  it.  So  far  as 
I  know,  inability  to  make  speeches  does  not  show  on  a 
man's  face,  and  Titherington  had  no  other  means  of 
judging  at  that  time  except  the  appearance  of  my  face. 
No  one  in  fact,  not  even  my  mother,  could  have  been 
sure  then  that  I  was  a  bad  speaker.  I  had  never  spoken 
at  a  public  meeting. 

"But,"  said  Titherington,  "we'll  pull  you  through  all 
right.  That  blackguard  Vittie  can't  poll  more  than  a 
couple  of  hundred." 

"Vittie,"  I  said  "is,  I  suppose,  the  tertium  quid,  not 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  119 

the  Nationalist.  I'm  sorry  to  trouble  you  with  inquiries 
of  this  kind,  but  in  case  of  accident  it's  better  for  me  to 
know  exactly  who  my  opponents  are." 

"He  calls  himself  a  Liberal.  He's  going  baldheaded 
for  some  temperance  fad  and  is  backed  by  a  score  or  so  of 
Presbyterian  ministers.  We'll  have  to  call  canny  about 
temperance." 

"If  you  want  me  to  wear  any  kind  of  glass  button  on 
the  lapel  of  my  coat,  I'll  do  it;  but  I'm  not  going  to  sign 
a  total  abstinence  pledge.  I'd  rather  not  be  elected." 

Titherington  was  himself  drinking  whiskey  and  water 
while  we  talked.  He  grinned  broadly  and  I  felt  reas- 
sured. We  had  dined  together  in  my  hotel,  and  Tither- 
ington had  consumed  the  greater  part  of  a  bottle  of 
champagne,  a  glass  of  port,  and  a  liqueur  with  his  coffee. 
It  was  after  dinner  that  he  demanded  whiskey  and  water. 
It  seemed  unlikely  that  he  would  ask  me  even  to  wear 
a  button. 

"As  we're  on  the  subject  of  temperance,"  he  said, 
"you  may  as  well  sign  a  couple  of  letters.  I  have  them 
ready  for  you  and  I  can  post  them  as  I  go  home  to-night." 

He  picked  up  a  despatch  box  which  he  had  brought 
with  him  and  kept  beside  him  during  dinner.  It  gave 
me  a  shock  to  see  the  box  opened.  It  actually  over- 
flowed with  papers  and  I  felt  sure  that  they  all  concerned 
my  election.  Titherington  tossed  several  bundles  of 
them  aside,  and  came  at  last  upon  a  small  parcel  kept 
together  by  an  elastic  band. 

"This,"  he  said,  handing  me  a  long  typewritten 
document,  "is  from  the  Amalgamated  Association  of 
Licensed  Publicans.  You  needn't  read  it.  It  simply 


120  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

asks  you  to  pledge  yourself  to  oppose  all  legislation  cal- 
culated to  injure  the  trade.  This  is  your  answer." 

He   handed   me   another   typewritten   document. 

"Shall  I  read  it?"  I  asked. 

"You  needn't  unless  you  like.  All  I  require  is  your 
signature." 

I  have  learned  caution  in  the  diplomatic  service.  I 
read  my  letter  before  signing  it,  although  I  intended  to 
sign  it  whatever  it  might  commit  me  to.  I  had  promised 
my  uncle  and  given  the  Conservative  and  Unionist  Par- 
liamentary Association  to  understand  that  I  would 
place  myself  unreservedly  in  Titherington's  hands. 

"I  see,"  I  said,  "that  I  pledge  myself 

"You  give  the  Amalgamated  Association  to  under- 
stand that  you  pledge  yourself,"  said  Titherington. 

"The  same  thing,  I  suppose?" 

"Not  quite,"   said  Titherington  grinning  again. 

"Anyhow,"  I  said,  "it's  the  proper  thing,  the  usual 
thing  to  do?" 

"O'Donoghue  has  done  it,  and  I  expect  that  ruffian 
Vittie  will  have  to  in  the  end,  little  as  he'll  like  it." 

I  signed. 

"Here,"  said  Titherington,  "is  the  letter  of  the  joint 
committee  of  the  Temperance  Societies." 

"There  appear  to  be  twenty-three  of  them,"  I  said, 
glancing  at  the  signatures. 

"There  are;  and  if  there  were  only  ten  voters  in  each 
it  would  be  more  than  we  could  afford  to  lose.  Vittie 
thinks  he  has  them  all  safe  in  his  breeches  pocket,  but  I 
have  a  letter  here  which  will  put  his  hair  out  of  curl  for 
a  while." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  121 

"I  hate  men  with  curly  hair,"  I  said.  "It's  so  effem- 
inate." 

Titherington  seemed  to  think  this  remark  foolish, 
though  I  meant  it  as  an  additional  evidence  of  my  deter- 
mination to  oppose  Vittie  to  the  last. 

"Read  the  letter,"  he  said. 

I  read  it.  If  such  a  thing  had  been  physically 
possible  it  would  have  put  my  hair  into  curl.  It  did, 
I  feel  almost  certain,  make  it  rise  up  and  stand  on 
end. 

"I  see  by  this  letter,"  I  said,  "that  I  am  pledging 
myself  to  support  some  very  radical  temperance  leg- 
islation." 

"You're  giving  them  to  understand  that  you  pledge 
yourself.  There's  a  difference,  as  I  told  you  before." 

"I  may  find  myself  in  rather  an  awkward  posi- 
tion if " 

"You'll  be  in  a  much  awkwarder  one  if  Vittie  gets 
those  votes  and  lets  O'Donoghue  in!" 

Titherington  spoke  in  such  a  determined  tone  that 
I  signed  the  letter  at  once. 

"Is  there  anything  else?"  I  asked.  "Now  that  I  am 
pledging  myself  in  this  wholesale  way  there's  no  partic- 
ular reason  why  I  shouldn't  go  on." 

Titherington  shuffled  his  papers  about. 

"Most  of  the  rest  of  them,"  he  said,  "are  just  the 
ordinary  things.  We  needn't  worry  about  them. 
There's  only  one  other  letter  —  ah !  here  it  is.  By 
the  way,  have  you  any  opinions  about  woman's 
suffrage?" 

"Not  one,"  I  said,  "but  I  don't,  of  course,  want  to 


122  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

be  ragged  if  it  can  be-  avoided.  Shall  I  pledge  myself 
to  get  votes  for  all  the  unmarried  women  in  the  con- 
stituency, or  ought  I  to  go  further?" 

Titherington  looked  at  me  severely.     Then  he  said: 

"It  won't  do  us  any  harm  if  Vittie  is  made  to  smell 
hell  by  a  few  militant  Suffragettes." 

"After  the  hole  he's  put  us  in  about  temperance," 
I  said,  "he'll  deserve  the  worst  they  can  do  to  him." 

"In  any  ordinary  case  I'd  hesitate;  for  women  are  a 
nuisance,  ad  —  d  nuisance.  But  this  is  going  to  be 

such  an  infernally  near  thing  that  I'm  half  inclined 

It's  nuts  and  apples  to  them  to  get  their  knives  into  any 
one  calling  himself  a  Liberal,  which  shows  they  have 
some  sense.  Besides,  the  offer  has,  so  to  speak,  dropped 
right  into  our  mouths.  It  would  be  sinning  against  our 
mercies  and  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence  not  to  con- 
sider it." 

I  had,  up  to  that  moment,  no  reason  for  suspecting 
Titherington  of  any  exaggerated  respect  for  Providence. 
But  there  are  queer  veins  of  religious  feeling  in  the  most 
hard-headed  men.  I  saw  that  Titherington  had  a 
theological  side  to  his  character  and  I  respected  him  all 
the  more  for  it. 

"Here's  a  letter,"  he  said,  "from  one  of  the  suffrage 
societies,  offering  to  send  down  speakers  to  help  us. 
As  I  said  before,  women  are  a  nuisance,  but  it's  just 
possible  that  there  may  be  a  few  cranks  among  that 
temperance  lot.  You'll  notice  that  if  a  man  has  one 
fad  he  generally  runs  to  a  dozen,  and  there  may  be  a  few 
who  really  want  women  to  get  votes.  We  can't  afford 
to  chuck  away  any  chances.  If  I  could  get  deputations 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  123 

from  the  Anti-Vaccinationists  and  the  Anti-Gamblers 
I  would.  But  I'd  be  afraid  of  their  going  back  on  us 
and  supporting  Vittie.  Anyhow,  if  these  women  are 
the  right  sort  they'll  pursue  Vittie  round  and  round  the 
constituency  and  yell  at  him  every  time  he  opens  his 
mouth." 

I  took  the  letter  from  Titherington.  It  was  headed 
A.S.P.L.  and  signed  Lalage  Beresford. 

"Are  you  quite  sure,"  I  said,  "that  the  A.S.P.L.  is  a 
woman's  suffrage  society?" 

"It  must  be,"  said  Titherington.  "The  letter's 
signed  by  a  woman,  at  least  I  suppose  Lalage  is  a  woman's 
name.  It  certainly  isn't  a  man's." 

"Still " 

"And  what  the  devil  would  women  be  writing  to  us 
for  if  they  weren't  Suffragettes?" 

"But  A.S.P.L.  doesn't  stand  for " 

"It  must,"  said  Titherington.  "S  stands  for  Suf- 
frage, doesn't  it?  The  rest  is  some  fancy  conglomeration. 
I  tell  you  that  there  are  so  many  of  these  societies  now- 
adays that  it's  pretty  hard  for  a  new  one  to  find  a  name 
at  all." 

"All  the  same " 

"There's  no  use  arguing  about  their  name.  The 
question  we  have  to  decide  is  whether  it's  worth  our 
while  importing  Suffragettes  into  the  constituency  or 
not." 

If  Titherington  had  not  interrupted  me  so  often  and 
if  he  had  not  displayed  such  complete  self-confidence  I 
should  have  told  him  what  the  A.S.P.L.  really  was  and 
warned  him  to  be  very  careful  about  enlisting  Lalage's 


124  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

aid.  But  I  was  nettled  by  his  manner  and  felt  that  it 
would  be  very  good  for  him  to  find  out  his  mistake  for 
himself.  I  remained  silent. 

"I  think  the  best  thing  I  can  do,"  he  said,  "is  to  inter- 
view the  lady.  I  can  judge  then  whether  she's  likely 
to  be  any  use  to  us." 

I  felt  very  pleased  to  think  that  Titherington  would 
learn  his  mistake  from  Lalage  herself.  He  will  be  much 
less  arrogant  afterward. 

"If  she  is  simply  an  old  frump  with  a  bee  in  her  bonnet,'* 
he  said,  "who  wants  to  bore  people,  I'll  head  her  off  at 
once.  If  she's  a  sporting  sort  of  girl  who'll  take  on 
Vittie  at  his  own  meetings  and  make  things  hum  gen- 
erally, I  think  I'll  engage  her  and  her  lot.  I  don't 
happen  to  be  a  magistrate  myself,  but  most  of  them  are 
your  supporters.  There  won't  be  a  bit  of  use  his  trying 
to  have  her  up  for  rioting.  We'll  simply  laugh  at  him 
and  she'll  be  worse  afterward.  Let  me  see  now.  She's 
in  Dublin.  *  Trinity  Hall,'  whatever  that  is.  If  I 
write  to-night  she'll  get  the  letter  in  the  morning.  Sup- 
pose I  say  11  A.M." 

"I  should  rather  like  to  be  present  at  the  interview," 
I  said. 

"You  needn't  trouble  yourself.  I  sha'n't  commit 
you  to  anything  and  the  whole  thing  will  be  verbal. 
There  won't  be  a  scrap  of  paper  for  her  to  show  after- 
ward, even  if  she  turns  nasty." 

It  seemed  to  me  likely  that  there  would  be  paper  to 
show  afterward.  If  Lalage  has  Selby-Harrison  behind 
her  she  will  go  to  that  interview  with  an  agreement  in 
her  pocket  ready  for  signature. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  125 

"All  the  same,"  I  said,  "I'd  like  to  be  there  simply  out 
of  curiosity." 

Titherington  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  "but  let  me  do  the  talking.  I 
don't  want  you  to  get  yourself  tied  up  in  some  impos- 
sible knot.  You'd  far  better  leave  it  to  me." 

I  assured  him  that  I  did  not  in  the  least  want  to  talk, 
but  I  persisted  in  my  determination  to  be  present  at 
the  interview.  Titherington  had  bullied  me  enough 
for  one  evening  and  my  promise  to  put  myself  entirely 
in  his  hands  was  never  meant  to  extend  to  the  limiting 
of  my  intercourse  with  Lalage.  Besides,  I  enjoyed  the 
prospect  of  seeing  him  tied  up  in  some  impossible  knot, 
and  I  believed  that  Lalage  was  just  the  girl  to  tie  him. 


CHAPTER  X 

rpITHERINGTON  had  a  room,  temporarily  set 
•*•  apart  for  his  use  as  an  office,  in  the  house  of  the 
Conservative  and  Unionist  Parliamentary  Association. 
Here  he  was  at  liberty  to  spread  about  on  a  large  table 
all  the  papers  he  carried  in  his  despatch  box  and  many 
others.  The  profusion  was  most  impressive,  and  would, 
I  am  sure,  have  struck  a  chill  into  the  soul  of  Vittie  had 
he  seen  it.  Here  were  composed  and  written  the  letters 
which  I  afterward  signed,  wonderful  letters,  which  like 
the  witches  in  Macbeth  "paltered  in  a  double  sense." 
Here  Titherington  entered  into  agreements  with  bill 
printers  and  poster  artists,  for  my  election  was  to  be 
conducted  on  the  best  possible  system  with  all  the  modern 
improvements,  an  object  lesson  to  the  rest  of  Ireland. 
Here  also  the  interview  with  Lalage  took  place.  The 
room  was  a  great  convenience  to  us.  Our  proper  head- 
quarters were,  of  course,  in  Ballygore,  the  principal 
town  in  the  East  Connor  division  of  Down.  But  a 
great  deal  of  business  had  to  be  done  in  Dublin  and  we 
could  hardly  have  got  on  without  an  office. 

I  walked  into  this  room  a  few  minutes  before  eleven  on  the 
morning  after  I  had  entertained  Titherington  in  my  hotel. 

"The  lady  hasn't  arrived  yet,"  I  said. 

"She's  gone,"  said  Titherington.  "She  was  here  at 
half-past  eight  o'clock." 

126 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  127 

I  noticed  that  Titherington  spoke  in  a  subdued  way 
and  that  his  eyes  had  a  furtive  expression  I  had  never 
seen  in  them  before.  I  felt  encouraged  to  give  expression 
to  the  annoyance  which  I  felt.  I  told  Titherington 
plainly  that  I  thought  he  ought  not  to  have  changed  the 
hour  of  the  interview  without  telling  me.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  he  had  played  me  a  mean  trick  and  I  resented 
it.  Greatly  to  my  surprise  Titherington  apologized 
meekly. 

"It  wasn't  my  fault,"  he  said,  "and  I  hadn't  time  to 
communicate  with  you.  I  only  got  this  at  twenty  min- 
utes past  eight  and  had  no  more  than  time  to  get  here 
myself." 

He  handed  me  a  telegram. 

"Eleven  quite  impossible.  Say  8.30.  Jun:  Soph. 
Ord.  begins  at  9.30.  LALAGE  BERESFORD." 

"I  was  just  sitting  down  to  breakfast,"  said  Tithering- 
ton, "and  I  had  to  get  up  without  swallowing  so  much 
as  a  cup  of  tea  and  hop  on  to  a  car.  She's  a  tremendously 
prompt  young  woman." 

"She  is,"  I  said,  "and  always  was." 

"You  know  her  then?" 

"I've  known  her  slightly  since  she  was  quite  a  little 
girl." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  so  last  night?" 

"I  tried  to,"  I  said,  "but  you  kept  on  interrupting  me, 
so  I  gave  up." 

Titherington's  conscience  may  have  pricked  him. 
He  was  certainly  in  a  chastened  mood,  but  he  showed 


128  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

no  sign  of  wishing  to  make  any  further  apologies.  On 
the  contrary  he  began  to  recover  something  of  his 
habitual  self-assertiveness. 

"If  you  know  her,"  he  said,  "perhaps  you  can  tell 
me  what  a  Jun.  Soph.  Ord.  is?" 

"No,  I  can't.  She  was  always,  even  as  a  child,  fond 
of  using  contractions.  I  remember  her  writing  to  me 
about  a  'comp.'  and  she  habitually  used  'hols'  and 
'rec.'  for  holidays  and  recreation." 

"It  sounds  to  me,"  said  Titherington,  "like  a  police 
court." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  think  she's  been 
arrested  for  anything?" 

"I  hope  so." 

"Why?"  I  asked.  "Was  she  too  much  for  you  this 
morning?" 

Titherington    ignored    the    second    question. 

"I  hope  so,"  he  said,  "because  if  she's  the  sort  of  girl 
who  gets  arrested,  she'll  be  most  useful  to  us.  She  was 
quite  on  for  annoying  Vittie.  She  says  she's  been  look- 
ing up  his  speeches  and  that  he's  one  of  the  worst  liars 
she  ever  came  across.  She's  quite  right  there." 

"I  wish,"  I  said,  "that  you'd  go  and  bail  her  out. 
Her  father's  a  clergyman  and  it  will  be  a  horrible  thing 
if  there's  any  public  scandal." 

"I  hinted  at  that  as  delicately  as  I  could.  I  didn't 
actually  mention  bail,  because  I  wasn't  quite  sure  that 
a  Jun.  Soph.  Ord.  mightn't  be  something  in  the  Pro- 
bate and  Divorce  Court.  She  simply  laughed  at  me  and 
said  she  didn't  want  any  help.  She  told  me  that  she  and 
Hilda,  whoever  Hilda  is,  are  sure  to  be  all  right,  because 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  129 

the  Puffin  is  always  a  lamb  —  I  suppose  the  Puffin  is 
some  name  they  have  for  the  magistrate  —  but  that  a 
Miss  Harrison  would  probably  be  stuck." 

"She  can't  have  said  Miss  Harrison." 

"No.  She  said  Selly,  or  Selby-Harrison,  short  for 
Selina  I  thought." 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  Selby-Harrison — it's  a  hyphenated 
surname  —  is  a  man." 

"Oh,  is  it?"  said  Titherington,  using  the  neuter  pro- 
noun because,  I  suppose,  he  was  still  uncertain  about 
Selby-Harrison's  sex. 

"I  wish,"  I  said,  "that  I  knew  exactly  what  they've 
done." 

"It  doesn't  in  the  least  matter  to  us.  So  long  as  she's 
the  kind  of  young  woman  who  does  something  we  shall 
be  satisfied." 

"Oh,  she's  that." 

"So  I  saw.  And  she's  an  uncommonly  good-looking 
girl.  The  crowd  will  be  all  on  her  side  when  she  starts 
breaking  up  Vittie's  meetings." 

"You  accepted  her  offer  of  help  then?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Titherington.  "She's  to  speak  at 
a  meeting  of  yours  on  the  twenty-first." 

Titherington  was  by  this  time  talking  with  all  his 
usual  buoyant  confidence,  but  I  still  caught  the  furtive 
look  in  his  eyes  which  I  had  noticed  at  first.  He  seemed 
to  me  to  have  something  to  conceal,  to  be  challenging 
criticism  and  to  be  preparing  to  defend  himself.  Now 
a  man  who  is  on  the  defensive  and  who  wants  to  conceal 
something  has  generally  acted  in  a  way  of  which  he  is 
ashamed.  I  felt  encouraged. 


130  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"You  didn't  commit  me  in  any  way,  I  hope,"  I  said. 

"Certainly  not.  I  didn't  have  to.  She  was  as  keen 
as  nuts  on  helping  us  and  didn't  ask  a  single  question 
about  your  views  on  the  suffrage  question.  I  needn't 
say  I  didn't  introduce  the  subject." 

"You  didn't  sign  anything,  I  suppose?" 

Titherington  became  visibly  embarrassed.  He  hes- 
itated. 

"I  rather  expected  you'd  have  to,"  I  said. 

"It  wasn't  anything  of  the  slightest  importance." 

"  Selby-Harrison  drew  it  up,  I  expect." 

"So  she  said.  But  it  didn't  matter  in  the  least.  If 
it  had  been  anything  that  tied  us  down  I  shouldn't  have 
signed  it." 

"You  would,"  I  said.  "Whatever  it  was  you'd  have 
signed  it." 

"She  rather  rushed  me.  She's  a  most  remarkable 
young  woman.  However  that's  all  the  better  for  us. 
If  she's  capable  of  rushing  me,"  Titherington's  chest 
swelled  again  as  he  spoke,  "she'll  simply  make  hay  of 
Vittie.  It  would  be  worth  going  to  hear  her  heckling 
that  beast  on  votes  for  women.  Believe  me,  he  won't 
like  it." 

"She  had  you  at  a  disadvantage,"  I  said.  "You  hadn't 
breakfasted." 

Titherington   became   suddenly  thoughtful. 

"I  wish  I  knew  more  about  ordinary  law,"  he  said. 
"I'm  all  right  on  Corrupt  Practices  and  that  kind  of 
thing,  but  I  don't  know  the  phraseology  outside  of 
electioneering.  Do  you  think  a  Jun.  Soph.  Ord.  can  be 
any  process  in  a  libel  action?" 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  131 

"It  might  be.    Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Well,  the  paper  I  signed  was  a  sort  of  agreement  to 
indemnify  them  in  case  of  proceedings  for  libel.  I 
signed  because  I  didn't  think  a  girl  like  that  would  be 
likely  to  say  anything  which  Vittie  would  regard  as  a 
libel.  He's  a  thick-skinned  hound." 

"She  once  libelled  twenty-three  bishops,  she  and 
Hilda  and  Selby-Harrison  between  them." 

"After  all,"  said  Titherington,  "you  can  say  pretty 
near  anything  you  like  at  an  election.  Nobody  minds. 
I  think  we're  pretty  safe.  I'll  see  that  anything  she  says 
at  our  meetings  is  kept  out  of  the  papers,  and  she  won't 
get  the  chance  of  making  regular  speeches  at  Vittie's." 

I  felt  quite  sorry  for  Titherington.  The  interview 
with  Lalage  had  evidently  been  even  more  drastic  than 
I  expected. 

"Perhaps,"  I  said  soothingly,  "they'll  give  her  six 
weeks  for  the  Jun.  Soph.  Ord.,  whatever  it  is,  and  then 
the  whole  election  will  be  over  before  she  gets  out." 

"We  can't  allow  that,"  said  Titherington.  "It  would 
be  a  downright  scandal  to  subject  a  girl  like  that  —  why, 
she's  quite  young  and  —  and  actually  beautiful." 

"We  must  hope  that  the  Puffin  may  prove,  as  she 
expects,  to  be  a  disguised  lamb." 

"I  wish  I  knew  who  he  is.     I  might  get  at  him." 

"It's  too  late  to  do  anything  now,"  I  said,  "but  I'll 
try  and  find  out  in  the  course  of  the  morning.  If  I  can't, 
we'll  get  it  all  in  the  evening  papers.  They're  sure  to 
report  a  case  of  the  sort  pretty  fully." 

I  left  Titherington  and  walked  across  toward  the 
club.  I  met  the  Archdeacon  in  St.  Stephen's  Green. 


132  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

I  might,  and  under  ordinary  circumstances  I  should, 
have  slipped  past  him  without  stopping,  for  I  do  not 
think  he  saw  me.  But  I  was  anxious  about  Lalage  and 
I  thought  it  likely  that  he  would  have  some  news  of 
her.  I  hailed  him  and  shook  hands  warmly. 

"Up  for  a  holiday?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  said  the  Archdeacon.  "I  have  eight  meetings 
to  attend  to-day." 

"I  mustn't  keep  you  then.  How  is  everybody  at 
home?  Canon  Beresford  and  Lalage  quite  well?" 

"I  saw  Lalage  Beresford  this  morning.  I  was  passing 
through  college  on  my  way  to  one  of  my  meetings  and  I 
saw  her  standing  outside  the  big  hall.  She's  in  her  first 
junior  sophister  examination  to-day." 

"Ord?"Isaid. 

"What?" 

"Ord?"  I  repeated.  "You  said  Jun.  Soph.,  didn't 
you?" 

"I  said  junior  sophister." 

"Quite  so,  and  it  would  be  Ord.,  wouldn't  it?" 

"It's  an  ordinary,  if  that's  what  you  mean." 

"An  ordinary,"  I  said,  "is,  I  suppose,  an  examination 
of  a  commonplace  kind." 

"It's  one  that  you  must  get  through,  not  an  honour 
examination." 

"I'm  so  glad  I  met  you.  You've  relieved  my  mind 
immensely.  I  was  afraid  it  might  be  an  indictable 
offence.  Without  your  help  I  should  never  have  guessed !" 

The  Archdeacon  looked  at  me  suspiciously. 

"I  hope  she'll  pass,"  he  said,  "but  I'm  rather  doubt- 
ful." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  133 

"Oh,  she'll  pass  all  right,  she  and  Hilda.  Selby- 
Harrison  may  possibly  be  stuck." 

"She's  very  weak  in  astronomy." 

"Still,"  I  said,  "the  Puffin  is  a  perfect  lamb.  I  think 
we  may  count  on  that." 

The  Archdeacon  eyed  me  even  more  suspiciously  than 
before.  I  could  see  that  he  thought  I  had  been  drinking 
heavily. 

"Titherington  told  me  that  about  the  Puffin,"  I 
said.  "He  wanted  to  bail  her  out.  He'll  be  just  as 
glad  as  I  am  when  he  hears  the  truth." 

The  Archdeacon  held  out  his  hand  stiffly.  I  do  not 
blame  him  in  the  least  for  wanting  to  get  away  from  me. 
A  church  dignitary  has  to  consider  appearances,  and  it 
does  not  do  to  stand  talking  to  an  intoxicated  man  in  a 
public  street,  especially  early  in  the  day. 

"I  think  we  may  take  it  for  granted,"  I  said,  "that 
the  Puffin  is  the  man  who  sets  the  paper  in  astron- 
omy." 

The  Archdeacon  left  me  abruptly,  without  shaking 
hands.  I  lit  a  cigarette  and  thought  with  pleasure  of 
the  careful  and  sympathetic  way  in  which  he  would 
break  the  sad  news  of  my  failing  to  Lord  Thormanby. 
When  I  reached  the  club  I  despatched  four  telegrams. 
The  first  was  to  Titherington. 

"No  further  cause  for  anxiety.  Jun.  Soph.  Ord.  not 
a  crime  but  a  college  examination.  The  Puffin  prob- 
ably the  Astronomer  Royal,  but  some  uncertainty  pre- 
vails on  this  point.  Shall  see  lady  this  afternoon  and 
complete  arrangements." 


134  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

I  knew  that  the  last  sentence  would  annoy  Tithering- 
ton.  I  put  it  in  for  that  purpose.  Titherington  had 
wantonly  annoyed  me. 

My  other  three  telegrams  were  all  to  Lalage.  I  ad- 
dressed one  to  the  rooms  of  the  Elizabethan  Society, 
one  to  175  Trinity  College,  which  was,  I  recollected,  the 
alternative  address  of  the  Anti-Tommy  Rot  Gazette, 
and  one  to  Trinity  Hall,  where  Lalage  resided.  In  this 
way  I  hoped  to  make  sure  of  catching  her.  I  invited 
her,  Hilda,  and  Selby-Harrison  to  take  tea  with  me  at 
five  o'clock  in  my  hotel.  I  supposed  that  by  that  time 
the  Jun.  Soph.  Ord.  would  have  run  its  course.  I  wished 
to  emphasize  the  fact  that  I  wanted  Lalage  to  bring 
Selby-Harrison,  whom  I  had  never  seen.  I  underlined 
his  name;  but  the  hall  porter  to  whom  I  gave  the  telegram 
told  me  that  the  post-office  regulations  do  not  allow  the 
underlining  of  words.  If  Titherington  succeeds  in  mak- 
ing me  a  Member  of  Parliament,  I  shall  ask  the  Post- 
master-General some  nasty  questions  on  this  point.  It 
seems  to  me  a  vexatious  limitation  of  the  rights  of 
the  public. 


CHAPTER  XI 

T  HAD  luncheon  in  the  club  and  then,  without  waiting 
*•  even  for  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  cigarette,  went  back 
to  my  hotel.  I  felt  that  I  must  make  the  most  perfect 
possible  arrangements  for  my  tea  party.  The  violence 
of  my  invitations  would  naturally  raise  Lalage's  expecta- 
tions to  the  highest  pitch.  I  sent  for  the  head  waiter, 
who  had  struck  me  as  an  able  and  intelligent  man. 

"I  am  expecting  some  ladies  this  afternoon,"  I  said, 
"and  I  shall  have  tea  in  my  sitting  room  at  five  o'clock. 
I  want  everything  to  be  as  nice  as  possible,  fresh  flowers 
and  that  kind  of  thing." 

The  man  nodded  sympathetically  and  gave  me  the 
impression  that  long  practice  had  familiarized  him  with 
the  procedure  of  tea  parties  for  ladies. 

"These  ladies  are  young,"  I  said,  "quite  young, 
and  so  the  cakes  must  be  of  the  most  sumptuous 
possible  kind,  not  ordinary  slices  cut  off  large  cakes, 
but  small  creations,  each  complete  in  itself  and  wrap- 
ped in  a  little  paper  frill.  Do  you  understand  what 
I  mean?" 

He  said  he  did,  thoroughly. 

"I  need  scarcely  say,"  I  added,  "that  many  if  not  all 
of  the  cakes  must  be  coated  with  sugar.  Some  ought  to 
be  filled  with  whipped  cream.  The  others  should  contain 
or  be  contained  by  almond  icing." 

135 


136  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

The  head  waiter  asked  for  information  about  the 
size  of  the  party. 

"There  are  only  two  ladies,'*  I  said,  "but  they  are 
bringing  a  young  man  with  them.  We  may,  as  he  is  not 
here,  describe  him  as  a  boy.  Therefore  there  must  be 
a  large  number  of  cakes,  say  four  dozen." 

The  head  waiter's  eyebrows  went  up  slightly.  It 
was  the  first  sign  of  emotion  he  had  shown. 

"I  sha'n't  eat  more  than  two  myself,"  I  said,  "so  four 
dozen  ought  to  be  enough.  I  also  want  ices,  twelve 
ices." 

This  time  the  head  waiter  gasped.  It  was  a  cold,  a 
remarkably  cold,  day,  with  an  east  wind  and  a  feeling 
in  the  air  as  if  snow  was  imminent. 

"You  mustn't  understand  from  that,"  I  said,  "that 
the  fire  is  to  be  allowed  to  go  out.  Quite  the  contrary. 
I  want  a  particularly  good  fire.  When  the  others  are 
eating  ices  I  shall  feel  the  need  of  it." 

The  head  waiter  asked  if  I  had  a  preference  for  any 
particular  kind  of  ice. 

"Strawberry,"  I  said,  "vanilla,  and  coffee.  Three  of 
each,  and  three  neapolitan.  That  will  make  up  the 
dozen.  I  shall  want  a  whole  box  of  wafers.  The  ices 
can  be  brought  in  after  tea,  say  at  twenty  minutes  past 
five.  It  wouldn't  do  to  have  them  melting  while  we  were 
at  the  cakes,  and  I  insist  on  a  good  fire." 

The  head  waiter  recapitulated  my  orders  to  make 
sure  that  he  had  got  them  right  and  then  left  me. 

At  twenty  minutes  to  five  Lalage  and  Hilda  arrived. 
They  looked  very  hot,  which  pleased  me.  I  had  been 
feeling  a  little  nervous  about  the  ices.  They  explained 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  137 

breathlessly  that  they  were  sorry  for  being  late.  I 
reassured  them. 

"So  far  from  being  late,"  I  said  "you're  twenty 
minutes  too  early.  I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  but  it's 
only  twenty  minutes  to  five." 

"There  now,  Hilda,"  said  Lalage,  "I  told  you  that 
your  old  chronometer  had  most  likely  darted  on  again. 
I  should  have  had  lots  and  lots  of  time  to  do  my  hair. 
Hilda's  watch,"  she  explained  to  me,  "was  left  to  her 
in  her  grandmother's  will,  so  of  course  it  goes  too  fast. 
It  often  gains  as  much  as  two  hours  in  the  course  of 
the  morning." 

"I  wonder  you  trust  it,"  I  said. 

"  We  don't.  When  we  got  your  first  'gram  in  the 
Elizabethan  we  looked  at  the  clock  and  saw  that  we  had 
heaps  of  time.  When  your  second  came  —  Selby- 
Harrison  sent  it  over  from  number  175  —  we  began  to 
think  that  Hilda's  watch  might  be  right  after  all  and 
that  the  college  clock  had  stopped.  We  went  back 
venire  a  terre  on  the  top  of  a  tram  to  Trinity  Hall  and 
found  your  third  'gram  waiting  for  us.  That  made  us 
dead  certain  that  we  were  late.  So  we  slung  on  any 
rags  that  came  handy  and  simply  flew.  We  didn't 
even  stay  to  hook  up  Hilda's  back.  I  jabbed  three  pins 
into  it  in  the  train." 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  said,  "that  you  troubled  to  change 
your  frocks.  I  didn't  expect  that  you'd  have  to  do  that." 

"Of  course  we  had.  Didn't  you  know  we  were  in 
for  an  exam  this  morning?" 

"I  did  know  that;  but  I  thought  you'd  have  had  on 
your  very  best  so  as  to  soften  the  Puffin's  heart." 


138  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"The  poor  old  Puffin,"  said  Lalage,  "wouldn't  be 
any  the  wiser  if  we  turned  up  in  our  night  dresses.  He 
thinks  of  nothing  but  parallaxes.  Does  he,  Hilda?" 

Hilda  did  not  answer.  She  was  wriggling  her  shoulders 
about,  and  was  sitting  bolt  upright  in  her  chair.  She 
leaned  back  once  and  when  she  did  so  a  spasm  of  acute 
pain  distorted  her  face.  It  occurred  to  me  that  one  of 
the  three  pins  might  have  been  jabbed  in  too  far  or  not 
precisely  in  the  right  direction.  Lalage  could  not  fairly 
be  blamed,  for  it  must  be  difficult  to  regulate  a  pin  thrust 
when  a  tram  is  in  rapid  motion.  I  did  not  like  the  idea 
of  watching  Hilda's  sufferings  during  tea,  so  I  cast  about 
for  the  most  delicate  way  of  suggesting  that  she  should 
be  relieved.  Lalage  was  beforehand  with  me. 

"Turn  round,  Hilda,"  she  said,  "and  I'll  hook  you 
up." 

"Perhaps,"  I  said,  "I'd  better  ring  and  get  a  house- 
maid." 

"What  for?"  said  Lalage. 

"I  thought  perhaps  that  Hilda  might  prefer  to  go 
to  a  bedroom.  I  don't  matter,  of  course,  but  Selby- 
Harrison  may  be  here  at  any  moment." 

"Selby-Harrison  isn't  coming.  Turn  round,  Hilda, 
and  do  stand  still." 

A  waiter  came  in  just  then  with  the  tea,  I  regret  to 
say  that  he  grinned.  I  turned  my  back  on  him  and 
looked  out  of  the  window. 

"Selby-Harrison,"  said  Lalage,  "is  on  Trinity  3rd  A., 
inside  left,  and  there's  a  cup  match  on  to-day,  so  of 
course  he  couldn't  come." 

"This,"  I  said,  "is  a  great  disappointment  to  me. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  139 

I've  been  looking  forward  for  years  to  making  Selby- 
Harrison's  acquaintance,  and  every  time  I  seem  to  be 
anywhere  near  it,  something  comes  and  snatches  him 
away.  I'm  beginning  to  think  that  there  isn't  really 
any  such  person  as  Selby-Harrison." 

Hilda  giggled  thickly.  She  seemed  to  be  quite  com- 
fortable again.  Lalage  snubbed  me  severely. 

"I  must  say  for  you,"  she  said,  "that  when  you  choose 
to  go  in  for  pretending  to  be  an  ass  you  can  be  more 
funerally  idiotic  than  any  one  I  ever  met.  No  wonder 
the  Archdeacon  said  you'd  be  beaten  in  your  election." 

"Did  he  say  that?" 

"Yes.  We  were  talking  to  him  this  morning,  Hilda 
and  I  and  Selby-Harrison,  outside  the  exam  hall.  We 
told  him  we  were  going  down  to  make  speeches  for 
you." 

"Was  it  before  or  after  you  told  him  that  he  said  I'd 
be  beaten?" 

"Before,"  said  Lalage  firmly. 

"Oh,    Lalage!    How   can   you?     You  know " 

I  interruped  Hilda  because  I  did  not  want  to  have  the 
harmony  of  my  party  destroyed  by  recrimination  and 
argument. 

"Suppose,"  I  said,  "that  we  have  tea." 

"I  must  say,"  said  Lalage,  ''that  you've  collected 
a  middling  good  show  of  cakes,  hasn't  he,  Hilda?" 

Hilda  looked  critically  at  the  tea  table.  She  was 
evidently  an  expert  in  cakes. 

"You  can't  have  got  all  those  out  of  one  shop,"  she 
said.  "There  isn't  a  place  in  Dublin  that  has  so  many 
varieties!" 


140  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"I'm  glad  you  like  the  look  of  them.  Which  of  you 
will  pour  out  the  tea?" 

"Hilda's  birthday  was  last  month,"  said  Lalage. 
"Mine  isn't  till  July." 

This  settled  the  point  of  precedence.  Hilda  took  her 
seat  opposite  the  teapot. 

"There  are  ices  coming,"  I  said  a  few  minutes  later, 
"twelve  of  them.  I  mention  it  in  case " 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Lalage.  "We  shall  be 
able  to  manage  the  ices.  There  isn't  really  much  in 
these  cakes." 

If  Selby-Harrison  had  come  there  would,  I  think, 
have  been  cakes  enough;  but  there  would  not  have  been 
any  to  spare.  I  only  ate  two  myself.  When  we  had 
finished  the  ices  we  gave  ourselves  to  conversation. 

"That  Tithers  man,"  said  Lalage,  "seems  to  be  a 
fairly  good  sort." 

"Is  Tithers  another  name  for  the  Puffin?" 

"No,"  said  Lalage.     "Tithers  is  Joey  P." 

"He  signed  his  letter  Joseph  P.,"  said  Hilda,  "so  at 
first  we  called  him  that." 

Titherington  usually  signs  himself  Joseph  P.  I 
inferred  that  he  was  Tithers. 

"You  liked  him?"  I  said. 

"In  some  ways  he's  rather  an  ass,"  said  Lalage,  "'and 
just  at  first  I  thought  he  was  inclined  to  have  too  good 
an  opinion  of  himself.  But  that  was  only  his  manner. 
In  the  end  he  turned  out  to  be  a  fairly  good  sort.  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  kick  up  a  bit  when  I  asked  him 
to  sign  the  agreement,  but  he  did  it  all  right  when  I 
explained  to  him  that  he'd  have  to." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  141 

"Lalage,"  I  said,  "I'd  like  very  much  to  see  that 
agreement." 

"Hilda  has  it.     Hilda,  trot  out  the  agreement." 
Hilda  trotted  it  out  of  a  small  bag  which  she  carried 

attached  to  her  waist  by  a  chain.     I  opened  it  and  read 

aloud: 

"Memorandum  of  an  agreement  made  this  tenth  day 
of  February  between  the  Members  of  the  A.S.P.L., 
hereinafter  called  the  Speakers,  of  the  one  part,  and 
Joseph  P.  Titherington,  election  agent,  of  the  other." 

"I  call  that  rather  good,"  said  Lalage. 

"Very,"  I  said,     " Selby-Harrison  did  it,  I  suppose?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Lalage. 

"  (1)  The  Speakers  are  to  deliver  for  the  said  election 
agent  .  .  .  speeches  before  the  tenth  of  March." 

"I  told  Tithers  to  fill  in  the  number  of  speeches  he 
wanted,"  said  Lalage,  "but  he  seems  to  have  forgotten." 

"(2)  The  Speakers  hereby  agree  to  assign  to  the 
said  election  agent,  his  successors  and  assigns,,,  and  the 
said  election  agent  hereby  agrees  to  enjoy,  the  sole 
benefit  of  the  above  speeches  in  the  British  Empire.  * 

"  (3)  When  the  demand  for  such  speeches  has 
evidently  ceased  the  said  election  agent  shall  be  at 
liberty 

I  paused.  There  was  something  which  struck  me  as 
familiar  about  the  wording  of  this  agreement.  I  recol- 


142  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

lected  suddenly  that  the  Archdeacon  had  once  consulted 
me  about  an  agreement  which  ran  very  much  on  the 
same  lines.  It  came  from  the  office  of  a  well-known 
publisher.  The  Archdeacon  was  at  that  time  bringing 
out  his  "Lectures  to  Confirmation  Candidates." 

"Has  Selby-Harrison,"  I  asked,  "been  publishing 
a  book?" 

"No,"  said  Lalage,  "but  his  father  has." 
"Ah,"  I  said,  "that  accounts  for  this  agreement  form." 
"Quite  so,"  said  Lalage,   "he   copied  it  from  that, 
making   the   necessary   changes.     Rather   piffle,   I   call 
that  part  about  enjoying  the  speeches  in  the  British 
Empire.     It  isn't  likely   that  Tithers   would  want  to 
enjoy  them  anywhere  else.     But  there's  a  good  bit  com- 
ing.    Skip  on  to  number  eight." 
I  skipped  and  then  read  again. 

"(8)  The  Speakers  agree  that  the  said  speeches  shall 
be  in  no  way  a  violation  of  existing  copyright  and  the 
said  agent  agrees  to  hold  harmless  the  said  speakers 
from  all  suits,  claims,  and  proceedings  which  may  be 
taken  on  the  ground  that  the  said  speeches  contain  any- 
thing libellous." 

"That's  important,"   said  Lalage. 

"It  is,"  I  said,  "very.  I  notice  that  Selby-Harrison 
has  a  note  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  to  the  effect  that  a 
penny  stamp  is  required  if  the  amount  is  over  two  pounds. 
He  seems  rather  fond  of  that.  I  recollect  he  had  it  in 
the  agreement  he  drew  up  for  me." 

"It  wasn't  in  the  original,"  said  Lalage.  "He  put  it 
in  because  we  all  thought  it  would  be  safer." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  143 

"You  were  right.  After  the  narrow  shave  you  had 
with  the  bishops  you  can't  be  too  careful.  And  the 
amount  is  almost  certain  to  be  over  two  pounds.  Even 
Vittie's  character  must  be  worth  more  than  that." 

"Vittie,"  said  Lalage,  "appears  to  be  the  very  kind 
of  man  we  want  to  get  at.  I've  been  reading  his 
speeches." 

"I  expect,"  I  said,  "that  you'll  enjoy  O'Donoghue  too. 
But  Vittie  is  to  be  your  chief  prey.  I  wonder  Mr. 
Titherington  didn't  insist  on  inserting  a  clause  to  that 
effect  in  the  agreement." 

"Tithers  hated  signing  it.  I  was  obliged  to  keep 
prodding  him  on  or  he  wouldn't  have  done  it.  Selby- 
Harrison  said  that  either  you  or  he  must,  so  of  course 
it  had  to  be  him.  We  couldn't  go  for  you  in  any  way 
because  we'd  promised  to  respect  your  scruples." 

I  recollected  the  telegram  I  had  received  just  before 
leaving  Lisbon. 

"I  wish,"  I  said,  "that  I  felt  sure  you  had  respected 
my  scruples.  What  about  Selby-Harrison's  father?  Has 
he  been  consulted?" 

" Selby-Harrison  isn't  coming,  only  me  and  Hilda." 

"Why?" 

"Well,  for  one  thing  he's  in  the  Divinity  School  now." 

"That  needn't  stop  him,"  I  said.  "My  constituency 
is  full  of  parsons,  priests,  and  Presbyterian  ministers, 
all  rampant.  Selby-Harrison  will  be  in  good  company. 
But  how  did  he  get  into  the  Divinity  School?  I  thought 
the  Provost  said  he  must  take  up  medicine  on  account 
of  that  trouble  with  the  bishops." 

"Oh,  that's  all  blown  over  long  ago.     And  being  a 


144  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

divinity  student  wasn't  his  only  reason  for  not  coming. 
The  fact  is  his  father  lives  down  there." 

"Ah,"  I  said,     "That's  more  serious." 

"He  wrote  to  his  father  and  told  him  to  be  sure  to 
vote  for  you.  That  was  as  far  as  he  cared  to  go  in  the 
matter." 

"It  was  very  good  of  him  to  do  so  much.  And  now 
about  your  mother,  Hilda.  Has  she  given  her  consent?" 

"Not  quite,"  said  Hilda.  "But  she  hasn't  forbidden 
me." 

"We  haven't  told  her,"  said  Lalage. 

"Lalage,  you  haven't  respected  my  scruples  and  you 
promised  you  would.  You  promised  in  the  most  solemn 
way  in  a  telegram  which  must  have  cost  you  two- 
pence a  word." 

"We  have  respected  them,"  said  Lalage. 

"You  have  not.     My  chief  scruple  was  Hilda's  mother." 

"My  point  is  that  you  haven't  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  business.  We  arranged  it  all  with  Tithers  and 
you  weren't  even  asked  to  give  your  consent.  I  don't 
see  what  more  could  have  been  done  for  your  scruples." 

"Hilda's  mother  might  have  been  asked." 

"I  can't  stop  here  arguing  with  you  all  afternoon," 
said  Lalage.  "Come  on,  Hilda." 

"Don't  go  just  yet.  I  promise  not  to  mention  Hilda's 
mother  again." 

"We  can't  possibly  stay,  can  we,  Hilda?  We  have 
our  viva  to-morrow." 

"Viva!" 

"Voce,"  said  Lalage.  "You  must  know  what  that 
means.  The  kind  of  exam  you  don't  write." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  145 

I  got  viva  into  its  natural  connection  with  voce  and 
grasped  at  Lalage's  meaning. 

"Part  of  the  Jun.  Soph.  Ord.?"  I  said. 

"Of  course,"  said  Lalage.     "What  else  could  it  be?" 

"In  that  case  I  mustn't  keep  you.  You'll  be  wanting 
to  look  up  your  astronomy.  But  you  must  allow  me 
to  parcel  up  the  rest  of  the  cakes  for  you.  I  should 
like  you  to  have  them  and  you're  sure  to  be  hungry 
again  before  bedtime." 

"Won't  you  want  them  yourself?" 

"No,  I  won't.  And  even  if  I  did  I  wouldn't  eat  them. 
It  would  hardly  be  fair  to  Mr.  Titherington.  He's  doing 
his  best  for  me  and  he'll  naturally  expect  me  to  keep  as 
fit  as  possible." 

"Very  well,"  said  Lalage,  "rather  than  to  leave  them 
here  to  rot  or  be  eaten  by  mice  we'll  take  them.  Hilda, 
pack  them  up  in  that  biscuit  tin  and  take  care  that 
the  creamy  ones  don't  get  squashed." 

Hilda  tried  to  pack  them  up,  but  the  biscuit  tin  would 
not  hold  them  all.  We  had  not  finished  the  wafers 
which  it  originally  contained.  I  rang  for  the  waiter  and 
made  him  bring  us  a  cardboard  box.  We  laid  the  cakes 
in  it  very  tenderly.  We  tied  on  the  lid  with  string  and 
then  made  a  loop  in  the  string  for  Hilda's  hand.  It 
was  she  who  carried  both  the  box  and  the  biscuit  tin. 

"Good-bye,"  said  Lalage.  "We'll  meet  again  on  the 
twenty-first." 

It  was  not  until  after  they  were  gone  that  I  understood 
why  we  should  meet  again  on  the  twenty -first.  That  was 
the  day  of  my  first  meeting  in  East  Connor,  and  Lalage 
had  promised  to  speak  at  it.  I  felt  very  uneasy.  It  was 


146  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

utterly  impossible  to  guess  at  what  might  happen  when 
Lalage  appeared  in  the  constituency.  I  sat  down  and 
wrote  a  letter  to  Canon  Beresford.  I  did  not  expect 
him  to  do  anything,  but  it  relieved  my  mind  to  write. 
After  all,  it  was  his  business,  not  mine,  to  look  after 
Lalage.  Three  days  later  I  got  an  answer  from  him, 
which  said: 

"I  shall  not  be  at  all  surprised,  if  Lalage  turns  out 
to  be  a  good  platform  speaker.  She  has,  I  under- 
stand, had  a  good  deal  of  practice  in  some  college 
debating  society  and  has  acquired  a  certain  fluency  of 
utterance.  She  always  had  something  to  say,  even  as  a 
child.  I  wish  I  could  run  up  to  County  Down  and  hear 
her,  but  it  is  a  long  journey  and  the  weather  is  miserably 
cold.  The  Archdeacon  told  me  yesterday  that  you 
meant  to  employ  her  in  this  election  of  yours.  He  seemed 
to  dislike  the  idea  very  much  and  wanted  me  to  *  put  my 
foot  down.'  (The  phrase,  I  need  scarcely  say,  is  his.) 
I  explained  to  him  that  if  I  put  my  foot  down  Lalage 
would  immediately  tread  on  it,  which  would  hurt  me  and 
not  even  trip  her.  Besides,  I  do  not  see  why  I  should. 
If  Lalage  finds  that  kind  of  thing  amusing  she  ought  to 
be  allowed  to  enjoy  it.  You  have  my  best  wishes  for 
your  success  with  the  turba  Quiritium.  I  am  glad,  very, 
that  it  is  you  who  have  to  face  them,  not  I.  I  do  not 
know  anything  in  the  world  that  I  should  dislike  more." 


CHAPTER  XII 

i 

rpITHERINGTON  took  rooms  for  me  in  the  better 
•^  of  the  two  hotels  in  Ballygore  and  I  went  down 
there  on  the  day  on  which  he  told  me  I  ought  to  go.  I 
had  as  travelling  companion  a  very  pleasant  man,  the 
only  other  occupant  of  the  compartment  in  which  I  was. 
He  was  chatty  and  agreeable  at  first  and  did  not  so 
much  as  mention  the  general  election.  After  we  passed 
Drogheda  his  manner  changed.  He  became  silent,  and 
when  I  spoke  to  him  answered  snappily.  His  face  got 
more  and  more  flushed.  At  last  he  asked  me  to  shut 
the  window  beside  me,  which  I  did,  although  I  wanted 
to  keep  it  open.  I  noticed  that  he  was  wriggling  in  a 
curious  way  which  reminded  me  of  Hilda  when  her  dress 
was  fastened  on  with  pins.  He  fumbled  about  a  good 
deal  with  one  of  his  hands  which  he  had  thrust  inside 
his  waistcoat.  I  watched  him  with  great  curiosity  and 
discovered  at  last  that  he  was  taking  his  temperature 
with  a  clinical  thermometer.  Each  time  he  took  it  he 
sighed  and  became  more  restless  and  miserable  looking 
than  before. 

On  the  19th  of  February  I  developed  a  sharp  attack 
of  influenza.  Titherington  flew  to  my  side  at  once, 
which  was  the  thing,  of  all  possible  things,  that  I  most 
wanted  him  not  to  do.  He  aggravated  my  sufferings 
greatly  by  speaking  as  if  my  condition  were  my  own 

147 


148  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

fault.  I  was  too  feverish  to  argue  co  .erently.  All  I 
could  do  was  to  swear  at  him  occasionally.  No  man 
has  any  right  to  be  as  stupid  as  Titherington  is.  It 
is  utterly  ridiculous  to  suppose  that  I  should  undergo 
racking  pains  in  my  limbs,  a  violent  headache  and 
extreme  general  discomfort  if  I  could  possibly  avoid  it. 
Titherington  ought  to  have  seen  this  for  himself.  He 
did  not.  He  scolded  me  and  would,  I  am  sure,  have 
gone  on  scolding  me  until  I  cried  if  what  he  took  for  a 
brilliant  idea  had  not  suddenly  occurred  to  him. 

"It's  an  ill  wind,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "which  can't 
be  made  to  blow  any  good.  I  think  I  see  my  way  to 
getting  something  out  of  this  miserable  collapse  of 
yours.  I'll  call  in  McMeekin." 

"If  McMeekin  is  a  doctor,  get  him.  He  may  not  be 
able  to  do  me  any  good,  but  he'll  give  orders  that  I'm 
to  be  left  quiet  and  that's  all  I  want." 

"McMeekin's  no  damned  use  as  a  doctor;  but 
he'll " 

"Then  get  some  one  else.  Surely  he's  not  the  only 
one  there  is." 

"There  are  two  others,  but  they're  both  sure  to  sup- 
port you  in  any  case,  whereas  McMeekin 

The  way  Titherington  was  discussing  my  illness  an- 
noyed me.  I  interrupted  him  and  tried  my  best  to  insult 
him. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  supported.  I  want  to  be  cured. 
Not  that  any  of  them  can  do  that.  I  simply  can't  and 
won't  have  another  blithering  idiot  let  loose  at  me. 
One's  enough." 

I  thought  that  would  outrage  Titherington  and  drive 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  149 

him  from  my  room.  But  he  made  allowances  for  my 
condition  and  refused  to  take  offence. 

"McMeekin,"  he  said,  "sets  up  to  be  a  blasted  Radical, 
and  is  Vittie's  strongest  supporter." 

"In  that  case  send  for  him  at  once.  He'll  probably 
poison  me  on  purpose  and  then  this  will  be  over." 

"He's  not  such  an  idiot  as  to  do  that.  He  knows  that 
if  anything  happened  to  you  we'd  get  another  candidate." 

Titherington's  tone  suggested  that  the  other  candidate 
would  certainly  be  my  superior  and  that  Vittie's  chances 
against  me  were  better  than  they  would  be  against  any 
one  else.  I  turned  round  with  a  groan  and  lay  with 
my  face  to  the  wall.  Titherington  went  on  talking. 

"If  you  give  McMeekin  a  good  fee,"  he  said,  "say  a 
couple  of  guineas,  he'll  think  twice  about  taking  the 
chair  at  Vittie's  meeting  on  the  twenty -fourth.  I  don't 
see  why  he  shouldn't  pay  you  a  visit  every  day  from  this 
to  the  election,  and  that,  at  two  guineas  a  time,  ought 
to  shut  his  mouth  if  it  doesn't  actually  secure  his  vote." 

I  twisted  my  neck  round  and  scowled  at  Titherington. 
He  left  the  room  without  shutting  the  door.  I  spent 
the  next  hour  in  hoping  vehemently  that  he  would  get  the 
influenza  himself.  I  would  have  gone  on  hoping  this 
if  I  had  not  been  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  Mc- 
Meekin. He  did  all  the  usual  things  with  stethoscopes 
and  thermometers  and  he  asked  me  all  the  usual  offen- 
sive questions.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  spent  far  more 
than  the  usual  time  over  this  revolting  ritual.  I  kept 
as  firm  a  grip  on  my  temper  as  I  could  and  as  soon  as 
he  had  finished  asked  him  in  a  perfectly  calm  and  reason- 
able tone  to  be  kind  enough  to  put  me  out  of  my  misery 


150  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

at  once  with  prussic  acid.  Instead  of  doing  what  I 
asked  or  making  any  kind  of  sane  excuse  for  refusing,  he 
said  he  would  telegraph  to  Dublin  for  a  nurse.  She  could 
not,  he  seemed  to  think,  arrive  until  the  next  day,  so  he 
said  he  would  take  a  bed  in  the  hotel  and  look  after  me 
himself  during  the  night.  This  was  more  than  I,  or 
any  one  else,  could  stand.  I  saw  the  necessity  for  making 
a  determined  effort. 

"I  am,"  I  said,  "perfectly  well.  Except  for  a  slight 
cold  in  the  head  which  makes  me  a  bit  stupid  there's 
nothing  the  matter  with  me.  I  intend  to  get  up  at  once 
and  go  out  canvassing.  Would  you  mind  ringing  the 
bell  and  asking  for  some  hot  water?" 

McMeekin  rang  the  bell,  muttering  as  he  did  so  some- 
thing about  a  temperature  of  104  degrees.  A  red- 
headed maid  with  a  freckled  face  answered  the  summons. 
Before  I  could  say  anything  to  her  McMeekin  gave 
orders  that  a  second  bed  should  be  brought  into  my  room 
and  that  she,  the  red-haired,  freckled  girl,  should  sit 
beside  me  and  not  take  her  eyes  off  me  for  a  moment 
while  he  went  home  to  get  his  bag.  I  forgot  all  about 
Titherington  then  and  concentrated  my  remaining 
strength  on  a  hope  that  McMeekin  would  get  the  in- 
fluenza. It  is  one  of  the  few  diseases  which  doctors  do 
get.  I  planned  that  when  he  got  it  I  would  search  Ire- 
land for  red-headed  girls  with  freckled  faces,  and  pay 
hundreds  of  them,  all  I  could  collect  in  the  four  prov- 
inces, to  sit  beside  him  and  not  take  their  eyes  off  him 
while  I  went  to  get  a  bag.  My  bag,  as  I  arranged,  would 
be  fetched  by  long  sea  from  Tasmania. 

That  evening  McMeekin  and  Titherington  both  settled 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  151 

down  in  my  bedroom.  I  was  so  angry  with  them  that 
I  could  not  take  in  what  they  said  to  each  other,  though 
I  was  dimly  conscious  that  they  were  discussing  the 
election.  I  learned  afterward  that  McMeekin  promised 
to  be  present  at  my  meeting  on  the  21st  in  order  to  hear 
Lalage  speak.  I  suppose  that  the  amount  of  torture  he 
inflicted  on  me  induced  a  mood  of  joyous  intoxication 
in  which  he  would  have  promised  anything.  I  lay  in 
bed  and  did  my  best,  by  breathing  hard,  to  shoot  germs 
from  my  lungs  across  the  room  at  Titherington  and 
McMeekin.  Their  talk,  which  must  have  lasted  about 
eighteen  hours,  was  interrupted  at  last  by  a  tap  at  the 
door.  The  red-haired  girl  with  a  freckled  face  came  in, 
carrying  a  loathsome  looking  bowl  and  a  spoon  which 
I  felt  certain  was  filthy  dirty.  McMeekin  took  them 
from  her  hands  and  approached  me.  In  spite  of  my 
absolutely  sickening  disgust,  I  felt  with  a  ferocious  joy 
that  my  opportunity  had  at  last  come.  McMeekin 
tried  to  persuade  me  to  eat  some  sticky  yellow  liquid 
out  of  the  bowl.  I  refused,  of  course.  As  I  had 
foreseen,  he  began  to  shovel  the  stuff  into  my  mouth 
with  the  spoon.  Titherington  came  over  to  my  bedside. 
Pie  pretended  that  he  came  to  hold  me  up  while  McMee- 
kin  fed  me.  In  reality  he  came  to  gloat.  But  I  had  my 
revenge.  I  pawed  McMeekin  with  my  hands  and 
breathed  full  into  his  face.  I  also  clutched  Tithering- 
ton's  coat  and  pawed  him.  After  that  I  felt  easier,  for 
I  began  to  hope  that  I  had  thoroughly  infected  them  both. 
My  recollections  of  the  next  day  are  confused.  Tither- 
ington and  McMeekin  were  constantly  passing  in  and 
out  of  the  room  and  at  some  time  or  other  a  strange  woman 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

arrived  who  paid  a  deference  which  struck  me  as  per- 
fectly ridiculous  to  McMeekin.  To  me  she  made  herself 
most  offensive.  I  found  out  afterward  that  she  was 
the  nurse  whom  McMeekin  had  summoned  by  telegraph. 
What  she  said  to  McMeekin  or  what  he  said  to  her  I 
cannot  remember.  Of  my  own  actions  during  the  day 
I  can  say  nothing  certainly  except  this:  I  asked  Mc- 
Meekin, not  once  or  twice,  but  every  time  I  saw  him, 
how  long  it  took  for  influenza  to  develop  its  full  strength 
in  a  man  who  had  thoroughly  imbibed  the  infection. 
McMeekin  either  would  not  or  could  not  answer  this 
simple  question.  He  talked  vague  nonsense  about 
periods  of  incubation,  whereas  I  wanted  to  know  the 
earliest  date  at  which  I  might  expect  to  see  him  and 
Titherington  stricken  down.  I  hated  McMeekin  worse 
than  ever  for  his  dogged  stupidity. 

The  next  day  McMeekin  said  I  was  better,  which 
showed  me  that  Titherington  was  right  in  saying  that 
he  was  no  damned  use  as  a  doctor.  I  was  very  dis- 
tinctly worse.  I  was,  in  fact,  so  bad  that  when  the 
nurse  insisted  on  arranging  the  bedclothes  I  burst  into 
tears  and  sobbed  afterward  for  many  hours.  That 
ought  to  have  shown  her  that  arranging  bedclothes  was 
particularly  bad  for  me.  But  she  was  an  utterly  callous 
woman.  She  arranged  them  again  at  about  eight  o'clock 
and  told  me  to  go  to  sleep.  I  had  not  slept  at  all  since 
I  got  the  influenza  and  I  could  not  sleep  then,  but  I 
thought  it  better  to  pretend  to  sleep  and  I  lay  as  still 
as  I  could.  After  I  had  been  pretending  for  a  long 
while,  at  some  hour  in  the  very  middle  of  the  night,  Tither- 
ington burst  into  my  room  in  a  noisy  way.  He  was  in 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  153 

evening  dress  and  his  shirt  front  had  a  broad  wrinkle 
across  it.  I  have  never  seen  a  more  unutterably  abhor- 
rent sight  than  Titherington  in  evening  dress.  The 
nurse  rebuked  him  for  having  wakened  me,  which 
showed  me  that  she  was  a  fool  as  well  as  a  wantonly 
cruel  woman.  I  had  not  been  asleep  and  any  nurse  who 
knew  her  business  would  have  seen  that  I  was  only 
pretending.  Titherington  took  no  notice  of  her.  He 
was  bubbling  over  with  something  he  wanted  to  say,  and 
twenty  nurses  would  not  have  stopped  him. 

"We  had  a  great  meeting,"  he  said.  "The  hall  was 
absolutely  packed  and  the  boys  at  the  back  nearly  killed 
a  man  who  wanted  to  ask  questions." 

"McMeekin,  I  hope,"  I  said  feebly. 

"No.  McMeekin  was  on  the  platform  —  mind  that 
now  —  on  the  platform.  I  gave  him  a  hint  beforehand 
that  we  were  thinking  of  calling  in  another  man  if  you 
didn't  improve.  He  simply  bounded  on  to  the  platform 
after  that.  It'll  be  an  uncommonly  nasty  jar  for  Vittie. 
The  speaking  wasn't  up  to  much,  most  of  it;  but  I  wish 
you'd  heard  the  cheers  when  I  apologized  for  your 
absence  and  told  them  you  were  ill  in  bed.  It  would 
have  done  you  good.  I  wouldn't  give  tuppence  for 
Vittie's  chances  of  getting  a  dozen  votes  in  this  part 
of  the  division.  We  had  two  temperance  secretaries, 
damned  asses,  to  propose  votes  of  thanks." 

"For   my    influenza?" 

"You're  getting  better,"  said  Titherington,  "not  a 
doubt  of  it.  I'll  send  you  round  a  dozen  of  champagne 
to-morrow,  proper  stuff,  and  by  the  time  you've  swallowed 
it  you'll  be  chirrupping  like  a  grasshopper." 


154  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"I'm  not  getting  better,  and  that  brute  McMeekin 
wouldn't  let  me  look  at  champagne.  He  gives  me 
gruel  and  a  vile  slop  he  calls  beef  tea." 

"If  he  doesn't  give  you  something  to  buck  you  up,'* 
said  Titherington,  "I'll  set  Miss  Beresford  on  him. 
She'll  make  him  hop." 

The  mention  of  Lalage  reminded  me  that  the  meeting 
was  the  occasion  of  her  first  speech. 

I  found  myself  beginning  to  take  a  slight  interest  in 
what  Titherington  was  saying.  It  did  not  really  matter 
to  me  how  things  had  gone,  for  I  knew  that  I  was  going 
to  die  almost  at  once.  But  even  with  that  prospect 
before  me  I  wanted  to  hear  how  Lalage's  maiden  speech 
had  been  received. 

"Did  Miss  Beresford  speak  at  the  meeting?"  I 
asked. 

The  nurse  came  over  to  my  bed  and  insisted  on  slip- 
ping her  thermometer  under  my  arm.  It  was  a  useless 
and  insulting  thing  to  do,  but  I  bore  it  in  silence  because 
I  wanted  to  hear  about  Lalage's  speech.  Titherington 
did  not  answer  at  once,  and  when  he  did  it  was  in  an 
unsatisfactory  way. 

"Oh,  she  spoke  all  right,"  he  said. 

"You  may  just  as  well  tell  me  the  truth." 

"The  speech  was  a  good  speech,  I'll  not  deny  that,  a 
thundering  good  speech." 

The  nurse  came  at  me  again  and  retrieved  her  abomi- 
nable thermometer.  She  twisted  it  about  in  the  light  of 
the  lamp  and  then  whispered  to  Titherington. 

"Don't  shuffle,"  I  said  to  him.  "I  can  see  perfectly 
well  that  you're  keeping  something  back  from  me.  Did 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  155 

McMeekin  insult  Miss  Beresford  in  any  way?  For  if 
he  did- 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Titherington.  "But  I've  been 
talking  long  enough.  I'll  tell  you  all  the  rest  to-morrow." 

Without  giving  me  a  chance  of  protesting  he  left  the 
room.  I  felt  that  I  was  going  to  break  down  again;  but 
I  restrained  myself  and  told  the  nurse  plainly  what  I 
thought  of  her. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said,  "whether  it  is  in  accordance 
with  the  etiquette  of  your  profession  to  thwart  the  wishes 
of  a  dying  man,  but  that's  what  you've  just  done.  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  I  shall  not  be  alive  to-morrow 
morning  and  you  could  see  that  the  only  thing  I  really 
wanted  was  to  hear  something  about  the  meeting.  Even 
a  murderer  is  given  some  indulgence  on  the  morning  of 
his  execution.  But  just  because  I  have,  through  no 
fault  of  my  own,  contracted  a  disease  which  neither  you 
nor  McMeekin  know  how  to  cure,  I  am  not  allowed  to 
ask  a  simple  question.  You  may  think,  I  have  no  doubt 
you  do  think,  that  you  have  acted  with  firmness  and 
tact.  In  reality  you  have  been  guilty  of  blood-curdling 
cruelty  of  a  kind  probably  unmatched  in  the  annals  of 
the  Spanish  Inquisition." 

I  think  my  words  produced  a  good  deal  of  effect  on  her. 
She  did  not  attempt  to  make  any  answer;  but  she  covered 
up  my  shoulder  with  the  bedclothes.  I  shook  them  off 
again  at  once  and  scowled  at  her  with  such  bitterness 
that  she  left  my  bedside  and  sat  down  near  the  fire.  I 
saw  that  she  was  watching  me,  so  again  pretended  to 
go  to  sleep. 

McMeekin  came  to  see  me  next  morning,  and  had  the 


156  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

effrontery  to  repeat  the  statement  that  I  was  better. 
I  was  not,  and  I  told  him  so  distinctly.  After  he  was 
gone  Titherington  came  with  a  large  bag  in  his  hand.  He 
sent  the  nurse  out  of  the  room  and  unpacked  the  bag. 
He  took  out  of  it  a  dozen  small  bottles  of  champagne. 
He  locked  the  door  and  then  we  drank  one  of  the  bottles 
between  us.  Titherington  used  my  medicine  glass.  I 
had  the  tumbler  off  the  wash-hand-stand.  The  nurse 
knocked  at  the  door  before  we  had  finished.  But 
Titherington,  with  a  rudeness  which  made  me  really  like 
him,  again  told  her  to  go  away  because  we  were  talking 
business.  After  I  had  drunk  the  champagne  I  began 
to  feel  that  McMeekin  might  have  been  right  after  all. 
I  was  slightly  better.  Titherington  put  the  empty  bottle 
in  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat  and  packed  up  the  eleven 
full  bottles  in  the  bag  again.  He  locked  the  bag  and 
then  pushed  it  as  far  as  he  could  under  my  bed  with  his 
foot.  He  knew,  just  as  well  as  I  did,  that  either  the 
nurse  or  McMeekin  would  steal  the  champagne  if  they 
saw  it  lying  about. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "you're  not  feeling  so  chippy." 

"No,  I'm  not.  Tell  me  about  Miss  Beresford's 
speech." 

"It  began  well,"  said  Titherington.  "It  began  infer- 
nally well.  She  stood  up  and,  without  by  your  leave 
or  with  your  leave,  said  that  all  politicians  were  damned 
liars." 

"Damned?" 

"Well,  bloody,"  said  Titherington,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  makes  a  concession. 

"Was  Hilda  there?" 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  157 

"She  was,  cheering  like  mad,  the  same  as  the  rest 
of  us." 

"I'm  sorry  for  that.  Hilda  is,  or  was,  a  nice,  innocent 
girl.  Her  mother  won't  like  her  hearing  that  sort  of 
language." 

"Bloody  wasn't  the  word  she  used,"  said  Titherington, 
"but  she  gave  us  all  the  impression  that  it  was  what 
she  meant!" 

"Goon." 

"Of  course  I  thought,  in  fact  we  all  thought,  that  she 
was  referring  to  Vittie  and  O'Donoghue,  especially 
Vittie.  The  boys  at  the  back  of  the  hall,  who  hate 
Vittie  worse  than  the  devil,  nearly  raised  the  roof  off  with 
the  way  they  shouted.  I  could  see  that  McMeekin 
didn't  half  like  it.  He's  rather  given  himself  away  by 
supporting  Vittie.  Well,  as  long  as  the  cheering  went 
on  Miss  Beresford  stood  and  smiled  at  them.  She's 
a  remarkably  well  set  up  girl  so  the  boys  went  on  cheer- 
ing just  for  the  pleasure  of  looking  at  her.  When  they 
couldn't  cheer  any  more  she  started  off  to  prove  what 
she  said.  She  began  with  O'Donoghue  and  she  got  in 
on  him.  She  had  a  list  as  long  as  your  arm  of  the  whop- 
pers he  and  the  rest  of  that  pack  of  blackguards  are  per- 
petually ramming  down  people's  throats.  Home  Rule, 
you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of  blasted  rot.  Then  she 
took  the  skin  off  Vittie  for  about  ten  minutes.  Man, 
but  it  would  have  done  you  good  to  hear  her.  The 
most  innocent  sort  of  remark  Vittie  ever  made  in  his 
life  she  got  a  twist  on  it  so  that  it  came  out  a  regular 
howling  lie.  She  finished  him  off  by  saying  that  Ananias 
and  Sapphira  were  a  gentleman  and  a  lady  compared 


158  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

to  the  ordinary  Liberal,  because  they  had  the  decency 
to  drop  down  dead  when  they'd  finished,  whereas  Vittie's 
friends  simply  went  on  and  told  more.  By  that  time 
there  wasn't  one  in  the  hall  could  do  more  than  croak, 
they'd  got  so  hoarse  with  all  the  cheering.  I  might 
have  been  in  a  bath  myself  with  the  way  the  sweat  was 
running  off  me,  hot  sweat." 

Titherington  paused,  for  the  nurse  knocked  at  the 
door  again.  This  time  he  got  up  and  let  her  in.  Then 
he  went  on  with  his  story. 

"The  next  minute,"  he  said,  "it  was  frozen  on  me." 

"The  sweat?" 

Titherington  nodded. 

"Go  on,"  I  said. 

"She  went  on  all  right.  You'll  hardly  believe  it,  but 
when  she'd  finished  with  O'Donoghue  and  Vittie  she 
went  on  to " 

"Me,  I  suppose." 

"No.  Me,"  said  Titherington.  "She  said  she  didn't 
blame  you  in  the  least  because  she  didn't  think  you  had 
sense  enough  to  lie  like  a  real  politician,  and  that  those 
two  letters  about  the  Temperance  Question " 

"She'd  got  ahold  of  those?" 

"They  were  in  the  papers,  of  course,  and  she  said  I'd 
written  them.  Well,  for  just  half  a  mimute  I  wasn't 
quite  sure  whether  the  boys  were  going  to  rush  the  plat- 
form or  not.  There  wouldn't  have  been  much  left  of 
Miss  Beresford  if  they  had.  But  she's  a  damned  good- 
looking  girl.  That  saved  her.  Instead  of  mobbing 
her  every  man  in  the  place  started  to  laugh.  I  tell  you 
there  were  fellows  there  with  stitches  in  their  sides  from 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  159 

laughing  so  that  they'd  have  given  a  five-pound  note 
to  be  able  to  stop.  But  they  couldn't.  Every  time 
they  looked  at  me  and  saw  me  sitting  there  with  a  kind 
of  a  cast-iron  grin  on  my  face  —  and  every  time  they 
looked  at  the  two  temperance  secretaries  who  were 
gaping  like  stuck  pigs,  they  started  off  laughing  again. 
Charlie  Sanderson,  the  butcher,  who's  a  stoutish  kind  of 
man,  tumbled  off  his  chair  and  might  have  broken  his 
neck.  I  never  saw  such  a  scene  in  my  life." 

I  saw  the  nurse  poking  about  to  find  her  thermom- 
eter. Titherington  saw  her  too  and  knew  what  was 
coming. 

"It  was  all  well  enough  for  once,"  he  said,  "but  we 
can't  have  it  again." 

"How  do  you  propose  to  stop  it?"  I  asked. 

"My  idea,"  said  Titherington,  "is  that  you  should 
see  her  and  explain  to  her  that  we've  had  enough  of  that 
sort  of  thing  and  that  for  the  future  she'd  better  stick 
entirely  to  Vittie." 

I  am  always  glad  to  see  Lalage.  Nothing,  even  in 
my  miserable  condition,  would  have  pleased  me  better 
than  a  visit  from  her.  But  I  am  not  prepared  at  any 
time  to  explain  things  to  her,  especially  when  the 
explanation  is  meant  to  influence  her  action.  I  am 
particularly  unfitted  for  the  task  when  I  am  in  a  state 
of  convalescence.  I  interrupted  Titherington. 

"Nurse,"  I  said,  "have  you  got  that  theremometer? 
I'm  nearly  sure  my  temperature  is  up  again." 

Titherington  scowled,  but  he  knew  he  was  helpless. 
As  he  left  the  room  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and  turned 
to  me. 


160  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"What  beats  me  about  the  whole  performance,"  he 
said,  "is  that  she  never  said  a  single  word  about  woman's 
suffrage  from  start  to  finish.  I  never  met  one  of  that 
lot  before  who  could  keep  off  the  subject  for  as  much  as 
ten  minutes  at  a  time  even  in  private  conversation." 


CHAPTER  Xin 

ENTERED  next  day  on  what  proved  to  be  the  most 
•*•  disagreeable  stage  of  my  illness.  McMeekin  called 
on  me  in  the  morning.  He  performed  some  silly 
tricks  with  a  stethoscope  and  felt  my  pulse  with  an  air 
of  rapt  attention  which  did  not  in  the  least  deceive  me. 
Then  he  intimated  that  I  might  sit  up  for  an  hour  or  two 
after  luncheon.  The  way  he  made  this  announcement 
was  irritating  enough.  Instead  of  saying  straightfor- 
wardly, "You  can  get  out  of  bed  if  you  like,"  or  words 
to  that  effect,  he  smirked  at  the  nurse  and  said  to  her, 
"I  think  we  may  be  allowed  to  sit  up  in  a  nice  comfort- 
able armchair  for  our  afternoon  tea  to-day."  But  the 
permission  itself  was  far  worse  than  the  manner  in  which 
it  was  given.  I  did  not  in  the  least  want  to  get  up. 
Bed  was  beginning  to  feel  tolerably  comfortable.  I  hated 
the  thought  of  an  armchair.  I  hated  still  more  bitterly 
the  idea  of  having  to  walk  across  the  floor.  I  suppose 
McMeekin  saw  by  my  face  that  I  did  not  want  to  get  up. 
He  tried,  after  his  own  foolish  fashion,  to  cheer  and 
encourage  me. 

"Poor  Vittie's  got  it  too,"  he  said.  "I  was  called  in 
to  see  him  last  night." 

"Influenza?" 

"Yes.  It's  becoming  a  perfect  epidemic  in  the  district. 
I  have  forty  cases  on  my  list." 

161 


162  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"If  Vittie's  got  it,"  I  said,  "there's  no  reason  in  the 
world  why  I  should  get  up." 

McMeekin  is  a  singularly  stupid  man.  He  did  not 
see  what  I  meant.  I  had  to  explain  myself. 

"The  only  object  I  should  have  in  getting  up,"  I  said, 
speaking  very  slowly  and  distinctly,  "would  be  to  prevent 
Vittie  going  round  the  constituency  when  I  couldn't  be 
after  him.  Now  that  he's  down  himself  he  can't  do 
anything  more  than  I  can;  so  I  may  just  as  well  stay 
where  I  am." 

Even  then  McMeekin  failed  to  catch  my  point. 

"You'll  have  to  get  up  some  time  or  other,"  he  said. 
"You  may  just  as  well  start  to-day." 

When  he  had  left  the  room  I  appealed  to  the  nurse. 

"Did  you  ever,"  I  said,  "hear  a  more  inane  remark 
than  that?  In  the  first  place  I  have  pretty  well  made 
up  my  mind  never  to  get  up  again.  It  isn't  worth  while 
for  all  the  good  I  ever  get  by  being  up.  In  the  second 
place  it's  ridiculous  to  say  that  because  one  has  to  do  a 
thing  sometime  one  may  as  well  do  it  at  once.  You  have 
to  be  buried  sometime,  but  you  wouldn't  like  it  if  Mc- 
Meekin told  you  that  you  might  just  as  well  be  buried 
to-day." 

I  hold  that  this  was  a  perfectly  sound  argument  which 
knocked  the  bottom  out  of  McMeekin's  absurd  state- 
ment, but  it  did  not  convince  the  nurse.  As  I  might  have 
known  beforehand  she  was  in  league  with  McMeekin. 
Instead  of  agreeing  with  me  that  the  man  was  a  fool, 
she  smiled  at  me  in  that  particularly  trying  way  called 
bright  and  cheery. 

"But  wouldn't  it  be  nice  to  sit  up  for  a  little?"  she  said, 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  163 

"No,  it  wouldn't." 

"It  would  be  a  change  for  you,  and  you'd  sleep  better 
afterward." 

"I've  got  on  capitally  without  sleep  for  nearly  a  week 
and  I  don't  see  any  use  in  reacquiring  a  habit,  a  wasteful 
habit,  which  I've  succeeded  in  breaking." 

She  said  something  about  the  doctor's  orders. 

"The  doctor,"  I  replied,  "did  not  give  any  orders. 
He  gave  permission,  which  is  a  very  different  thing." 

I  spent  some  time  in  explaining  the  difference  between 
an  order  and  a  permission.  I  used  simple  illustrations 
and  made  my  meaning  so  plain  that  no  one  could  possibly 
have  missed  it.  The  nurse,  instead  of  admitting  that  I 
had  convinced  her,  went  out  of  the  room.  She  came  back 
again  with  a  cupful  of  beef  tea  which  she  offered  me  with 
another  bright  smile.  If  I  were  not  a  man  with  a  very 
high  sense  of  the  courtesy  due  to  women  I  should  have 
taken  the  cup  and  thrown  it  at  her  head.  It  is,  I  think, 
very  much  to  my  credit  that  I  drank  the  beef  tea  and  then 
did  nothing  worse  than  turn  my  face  to  the  wall. 

At  two  o'clock  she  got  my  dressing  gown  and  somewhat 
ostentatiously  spread  it  out  on  a  chair  in  front  of  the 
fire.  I  lay  still  and  said  nothing,  though  I  saw  that  she 
still  clung  to  the  idea  of  getting  me  out  of  bed.  Then 
she  rang  the  bell  and  made  the  red-haired  girl  bring  a 
dilapidated  armchair  into  the  room.  She  pummelled 
its  cushions  with  her  fists  for  some  time  and  then  put  a 
pillow  on  it.  This  showed  me  that  she  fully  expected  to 
succeed  in  making  me  sit  up.  I  was  perfectly  determined 
to  stay  where  I  was.  I  pretended  to  go  to  sleep  and 
even  went  the  length  of  snoring  in  a  long-drawn,  satisfied 


164  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

kind  of  way.  She  came  over  and  looked  at  me.  I 
very  slightly  opened  the  corner  of  one  eye  and  saw  by 
the  expression  of  her  face  that  she  did  not  believe  I  was 
really  asleep.  I  prepared  for  the  final  struggle  by  grip- 
ping the  bedclothes  tightly  with  both  hands  and  poking 
my  feet  between  the  bars  at  the  bottom  of  the  bed. 

At  three  o'clock  she  had  me  seated  in  the  armchair, 
clothed  in  my  dressing  gown,  with  a  rug  wrapped  round 
my  legs.  I  was  tingling  with  suppressed  rage  and  flushed 
with  a  feeling  of  degradation.  I  intended,  as  soon  as  I 
regained  my  self  control,  to  say  some  really  nasty  things 
to  her.  Before  I  had  made  up  my  mind  which  of  several 
possible  remarks  she  would  dislike  most,  Titherington 
came  into  the  room.  The  nurse  does  not  like  Tithering- 
ton. She  has  never  liked  him  since  the  day  that  he  kept 
her  outside  the  door  while  we  drank  champagne.  She 
always  smoothes  her  apron  with  both  hands  when  she 
sees  him,  which  is  a  sign  that  she  would  like  to  do  him 
a  bodily  injury  if  she  could.  On  this  occasion,  after 
smoothing  her  apron  and  shoving  a  protruding  hair  pin 
into  the  back  of  her  hair,  she  marched  out  of  the  room. 

"McMeekin  tells  me,"  I  said  to  Titherington,  "that 
Vittie  has  got  the  influenza.  Is  it  true?" 

"He  says  he  has,"  said  Titherington,  with  strong 
emphasis  on  the  word  "says." 

"Then  I  wish  you'd  go  round  and  offer  him  the  use  of 
my  nurse.  I  don't  want  her." 

"He  has  two  aunts,  and  besides " 

I  was  not  going  to  allow  Vittie's  aunts  to  stand  in  my 
way.  I  interrupted  Titherington  with  an  argument  which 
I  felt  sure  he  would  appreciate. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  165 

"He  may  have  twenty  aunts,"  I  said;  "that's  not  my 
point.  What  I'm  thinking  of  is  the  excellent  effect  it  will 
produce  in  the  constituency  if  I  publicly  sacrifice  myself 
by  handing  over  my  nurse  to  my  political  opponent.  The 
amount  of  electioneering  capital  which  could  be  made 
out  of  an  act  of  heroism  of  that  kind  —  why,  it  would 
catch  the  popular  imagination  more  than  if  I  jumped  into 
a  mill  race  to  save  Vittie  from  a  runaway  horse,  and 
everybody  knows  that  if  you  can  bring  off  a  spoof  of  that 
sort  an  election  is  as  good  as  won." 

Titherington  growled. 

"All  the  papers  would  have  it,"  I  said.  "Even  the 
Nationalists  would  be  obliged  to  admit  that  I'd  done  a 
particularly  noble  thing." 

"I  don't  believe  Vittie  has  the  influenza." 

"McMeekin  said  so." 

"It  would  be  just  like  Vittie,"  said  Titherington,  "to 
pretend  he  had  it  so  as  to  get  an  excuse  for  calling  in 
McMeekin .  He  knows  McMeekin  has  been  wobbling  ever 
since  you  got  ill." 

This  silenced  me.  If  Vittie  is  crafty  enough  to  devise 
such  a  complicated  scheme  for  bribing  McMeekin  with- 
out bringing  himself  within  the  meshes  of  the  Corrupt 
Practices  Act  he  is  certainly  too  wise  to  allow  himself 
to  be  subjected  to  my  nurse. 

"Anyway,"  said  Titherington,  "it's  not  Vittie' s  in- 
fluenza I  came  here  to  talk  about." 

"Have  you  got  the  key  of  your  bag  with  you?" 

Titherington  was  in  a  bad  temper,  but  he  allowed 
himself  to  grin.  He  went  down  on  his  hands  and  knees 
and  dragged  the  bag  from  its  hiding  place  under  the  bed. 


166  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

We  opened  two  half  bottles,  but  although  Titherington 
drank  a  great  deal  more  than  his  share  he  remained 
morose. 

"That  girl,"  he  said,  "is  playing  old  hookey  with  the 
constituency.  I  won't  be  answerable  for  the  consequences 
unless  she's  stopped  at  once." 

"I  suppose  you're  speaking  about  Miss  Beresford?" 

"Instead  of  talking  rot  about  woman's  suffrage,"  said 
Titherington  savagely,  "and  ragging  Vittie,  which  is 
what  we  brought  her  here  for,  she's  going  round  calling 
everybody  a  liar.  And  it  won't  do.  I  tell  you  it  won't 
do  at  all." 

"You  said  it  was  a  good  speech,"  I  reminded  him. 

"I  shouldn't  have  minded  that  speech.  It's  what 
she's  been  at  since  then.  She  spent  all  day  yesterday 
and  the  whole  of  this  morning  going  round  from  house 
to  house  gassing  about  the  way  nobody  in  political 
life  ever  speaks  the  truth.  She  has  a  lot  of  young  fools 
worked  up  to  such  a  state  that  I  can  scarcely  show  my 
face  in  the  streets,  and  I  hear  that  they  mobbed  a  man 
up  at  the  railway  station  who  came  down  to  support 
O'Donoghue.  He  deserved  it,  of  course,  but  it's  im- 
possible to  say  who  they'll  attack  next.  Half  the  town 
is  going  about  with  yards  of  white  ribbon  pinned  on  to 
them." 

"What  on  earth  for?" 

"Some  foolery.  It's  the  badge  of  some  blasted  society 
she's  started.  There's  A.S.P.L.  on  the  ribbons." 

"I  told  you  at  the  start,"  I  said,  "that  the  letters 
A.S.P.L.  couldn't  stand  for  votes  for  women,  but  you 
would  have  it  that  they  did." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  167 

"She  has  the  whole  town  placarded  with  notices  of  a 
meeting  she's  going  to  hold  to-morrow  night.  We  can't 
possibly  have  that,  you  know." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  stop  her?" 

"Stop  her!  I've  done  every  damned  thing  I  could  to 
stop  her.  I  went  round  to  her  this  morning  and  told 
her  you'd  sign  any  pledge  she  liked  about  woman's  suf- 
frage if  she'd  only  clear  out  of  this  and  go  to  Belfast.  She 
as  good  as  told  me  to  my  face  that  she  wouldn't  give  a 
tinker's  curse  for  any  pledge  I  had  a  hand  in  giving. 
My  own  impression  is  that  she  doesn't  care  if  she  never 
got  a  vote,  or  any  other  woman  either.  All  she  wants 
is  to  turn  the  place  into  a  bear  garden  and  spoil  the 
whole  election.  I've  come  here  to  tell  you  plain 
that  if  you  don't  interfere  I'll  wash  my  hands  of  the 
whole  affair." 

"Don't  do  that,"  I  said.  "Think  of  the  position  I'd 
be  in  if  you  deserted  me." 

"Then  stop  her." 

"I  would.  I  would  stop  her  at  once  if  I  hadn't  got 
the  influenza.  You  see  yourself  the  state  I'm  in.  The 
nurse  wouldn't  let  me  do  it  even  if  McMeekin  agreed." 

"Damn  the  nurse!" 

"I  quite  agree;  and  if  you'd  do  as  I  suggest  and  cart 
her  off  to  Vittie  - 

"Look  here,"  said  Titherington.  "It's  all  very  well 
you're  talking  like  that,  but  this  is  serious.  The  whole 
election's  becoming  a  farce.  Miss  Beresford ' 

"It's  a  well-known  fact  that  there  is  nothing  so  un- 
controllable as  a  tiger  once  it  has  got  the  taste  of  human 
blood,  and  Miss  Beresford,  having  found  out  how  nice  it 


168  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

is  to  call  you  and  Vittie  and  O'Donoghue  liars,  isn't  likely 
to  be  persuaded " 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  said  Titherington  truc- 
ulently. 

"I?  I'm  going  back  to  bed  as  soon  as  I  can,  and  when 
once  back  I'm  going  to  stay  there." 

Titherington  looked  so  angry  that  I  began  to  feel 
afraid.  I  was  quite  helpless  and  I  did  not  want  him  to 
revenge  himself  on  me  by  carrying  off  the  champagne 
or  sending  for  a  second  nurse. 

"There's  just  one  idea  which  occurs  to  me,"  I  said. 
"I  doubt  whether  it  will  be  much  use,  but  you  might  try 
it  if  you're  regularly  stuck.  Write  to  Hilda's  mother." 

"Who  the  devil's  Hilda's  mother?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  you  might  find  out.  She  strongly 
disapproves  of  Hilda's  making  speeches,  and  if  she  knew 
what  is  going  on  here  I  expect  she'd  stop  it.  She'd  stop 
Hilda  anyhow." 

"Is  Hilda  the  other  one." 

"Yes,"  I  said.   "The  minor  one." 

Titherington  got  out  a  note  book  and  a  pencil. 

"What's  her  address?"  he  asked. 

'I  don't  know." 

"Never  mind.  I'll  hunt  all  the  directories  till  I  find 
her.  What's  her  name?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Well,  what's  the  girl's  name?  I  suppose  the  mother's 
is  the  same  unless  she's  married  again." 

"Hilda,"  I  said.  "I've  told  you  that  three  or  four 
times." 

"Hilda  what?" 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  169 

"I  don't  know.  I  never  heard  her  called  anything 
but  Hilda." 

Titherington  shut  his  note  book  and  swore.  Then  he 
dropped  his  pencil  on  the  floor.  I  felt  quite  sorry  for 
him.  If  I  had  known  Hilda's  surname  I  should  have  told 
it  to  him  at  once. 

"It's  just  possible,"  I  said,  "that  Selby-Harrison's 
father  might  know.  He  lives  down  in  these  parts  some- 
where. Perhaps  you've  met  him." 

"There's  only  one  Selby-Harrison  here.  He's  on  your 
committee,  a  warm  supporter  of  yours." 

"That's  the  man.  Selby-Harrison,  the  son  I  mean, 
said  he'd  write  to  the  old  gentleman  and  tell  him  to  vote 
for  me.  I  expect  he  went  on  my  committee  after  that." 

"And  you  think  he  can  get  at  this  young  woman's 
mother?" 

"No.  I  don't  think  anything  of  the  sort.  All  I  say 
is  that  he  may  possibly  know  the  name  of  Hilda's 
mother." 

"Can't  I  get  at  Miss  Beresford's  mother?" 

"No,  you  can't.     She's  been  dead  for  twenty  years." 

"A  good  job  for  her,"  said  Titherington. 

"The  Archdeacon  would  agree  with  you  there." 

"What  Archdeacon?" 

I  saw  that  I  had  made  an  unfortunate  admission. 
Titherington,  in  his  present  mood,  would  be  quite  cap- 
able of  bringing  the  Archdeacon  down  on  us  here.  I 
would  almost  rather  have  a  second  nurse.  I  hastened 
to  cover  my  mistake. 

"Any  Archdeacon,"  I  said.  "You  know  what  Arch- 
deacons are.  There  isn't  one  of  them  belonging  to  any 


170  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

church  who  wouldn't  disapprove  strongly  of  Miss 
Beresford." 

Titherington  grunted. 

"If  I  thought  an  Archdeacon  would  be  any  use,"  he 
said,  "I'd  get  a  dozen  if  I  had  to  pay  them  fifty  pounds 
apiece." 

"They  wouldn't  help  in  the  slightest.  Miss  Beresford 
and  Hilda  have  libelled  twenty-three  bishops  in  their 
day.  They'd  simply  laugh  at  your  Archdeacons." 

"Well,"  said  Titherington,  "I  suppose  that's  all  I  am 
to  get  out  of  you." 

"That's  all.  If  there  was  anything  else  I  could  sug- 
gest- 

Titherington  picked  up  his  pencil  again. 

"I'll  try  Selby -Harrison,"  he  said,  "and  if  he  knows 
the  name " 

"If  he  doesn't,  get  him  to  wire  to  his  son  for  it.  He 
certainly  knows." 

"I  will." 

"I  needn't  tell  you,"  I  added,  "that  the  telegram  must 
be  cautiously  worded." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Merely  that  if  Selby-Harrison,  the  son,  suspects  that 
you  and  the  father  want  to  worry  Hilda  or  Miss  Beres- 
ford in  any  way  he'll  lie  low  and  not  answer  the  telegram. 
He's  on  the  committe  of  the  A.S.P.L.,  so  of  course  he 
won't  want  the  work  of  the  society  to  be  interfered  with." 

"If  he  doesn't  answer,  I'll  go  up  to  Dublin  to-night 
and  drag  it  out  of  the  young  pup  by  force.  It'll  be  a 
comfort  anyhow  to  be  dealing  with  somebody  I  can  kick. 
These  girls  are  the  very  devil." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  171 

"No.  175  Trinity  College  is  the  address,"  I  said.  "J 
is  the  initial.  If  he's  not  in  his  rooms  when  you  call 
just  ask  where  the  3rd  A.  happens  to  be  playing." 

"The  what?" 

"It's  a  hockey  eleven  and  it's  called  the  3rd  A.  Miss 
Beresford  told  me  so  and  I  think  we  may  rely  on  it  that 
she,  at  least,  speaks  the  truth.  Selby-Harrison  some- 
times plays  halfback  and  sometimes  inside  left,  but  any- 
body would  point  him  out  to  you." 

Titherington  took  several  careful  notes  in  his  book. 

"It's  not  much  of  a  chance,"  I  said,  "but  it  will  keep 
you  busy  for  a  while  and  anything  is  better  than  sitting 
still  and  repining." 

"In  the  infernal  fix  we're  in,"  said  Titherington,  "any- 
thing is  worth  trying." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

DURING  the  time  that  Titherington  and  I  were 
thrown  together  I  learned  to  respect  and  admire 
him,  but  I  never  cared  for  him  as  a  companion.  Only 
once,  so  far  as  I  recollect,  did  I  actually  wish  to  see  him. 
The  day  after  I  gave  him  the  hint  about  Hilda's  mother 
I  waited  for  him  anxiously.  I  was  full  of  curiosity.  I 
wanted  to  know  what  Hilda's  surname  was,  a  matter 
long  obscure  to  me,  which  Titherington,  if  any  man 
living,  would  find  out.  I  also  wanted  to  know  how  Hilda's 
mother  took  the  news  of  her  daughter's  political  activity. 
I  waited  for  him  all  day  but  he  did  not  visit  me.  Toward 
evening  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  have  found 
himself  obliged  to  go  up  to  Dublin  in  pursuit  of  Selby- 
Harrison,  junior.  I  spent  a  pleasant  hour  or  two  in  pic- 
turing to  myself  the  interview  between  them.  Tithering- 
ton had  spoken  of  using  violent  means  of  persuasion,  of 
dragging  the  surname  of  Hilda  out  of  the  young  man. 
He  might,  so  I  liked  to  think,  chase  Selby-Harrison  round 
the  College  Park  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand.  Then 
there  would  be  complications.  The  Provost  and  senior 
fellows,  not  understanding  Titherington's  desperate 
plight,  would  resent  his  show  of  violence,  which  would 
strike  them  as  unseemly  in  their  academic  groves.  Swift, 
muscular  porters  would  be  sent  in  pursuit  of  Titherington, 
who  would,  himself,  still  pursue  Selby-Harrison.  The  great 

172 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  173 

bell  of  the  Campanile  would  ring  furious  alarm  peals. 
The  Dublin  metropolitan  police  would  at  last  be  called 
in,  for  Titherington,  when  in  a  determined  mood,  would 
be  very  difficult  to  overpower. 

All  this  was  pleasant  to  think  about  at  first;  but  there 
came  a  time  when  my  mind  was  chiefly  occupied  in  resent- 
ing Titherington's  thoughtlessness.  He  had  no  right 
to  go  off  on  a  long  expedition  without  leaving  me  the  key 
of  the  bag  in  which  we  kept  the  champagne.  I  felt  the 
need  of  a  stimulant  so  badly  that  I  ventured  to  ask  Mc- 
Meekin,  who  called  just  before  I  went  to  bed,  to  allow 
me  half  a  glass  of  Burgundy.  Burgundy  would  not 
have  been  nearly  as  good  for  me  as  champagne,  but 
it  would  have  been  better  than  nothing.  McMeekin 
sternly  forbade  anything  of  the  sort,  and  I  heard  him  tell 
the  nurse  to  give  me  barley  water  when  I  asked  for  a 
drink.  This  is  another  proof  that  McMeekin  ought  to 
be  in  an  asylum  for  idiots.  Barley  water  would  depress 
me  and  make  me  miserable  even  if  I  were  in  perfect 
health. 

As  a  set-off  against  Titherington's  thoughtlessness  and 
McMeekin's  imbecility,  I  noticed  that  during  the  day 
the  nurse  became  gradually  less  obnoxious.  I  began 
to  see  that  she  had  some  good  points  and  that  she  meant 
well  by  me,  though  she  still  did  things  of  which  I  could 
not  possibly  approve.  She  insisted,  for  instance,  that  I 
should  wash  my  face,  a  wholly  unnecessary  exertion 
which  exhausted  me  greatly  and  might  easily  have  given 
me  cold.  Still  I  disliked  her  less  than  I  did  before,  and 
felt,  toward  evening  that  she  was  becoming  quite  toler- 
able. I  always  like  to  give  praise  to  any  one  who  deserves 


174  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

it,  especially  if  I  have  been  obliged  previously  to  speak 
in  a  different  way.  After  I  got  into  bed  I  congratulated 
her  on  the  improvement  I  had  noticed  in  her  character 
and  disposition.  She  replied  that  she  was  delighted  to 
see  that  I  was  beginning  to  pick  up  a  little.  The  idea 
in  her  mind  evidently  was  that  no  change  had  taken 
place  in  her  but  that  I  was  shaking  off  a  mood  of  irritable 
pessimism,  one  of  the  symptoms  of  my  disease.  I  did 
not  argue  with  her  though  I  knew  that  she  was  quite 
wrong.  There  really  was  a  change  in  her  and  I  had  all 
along  kept  a  careful  watch  over  my  temper. 

The  day  after  that,  being,  I  believe,  the  eighth  of  my 
illness,  I  got  up  at  eleven  o'clock  and  put  on  a  pair  of 
trousers  under  my  dressing-gown.  McMeekin,  backed 
by  the  nurse,  insisted  on  my  sending  for  a  barber  to 
shave  me.  I  did  not  like  the  barber,  for,  like  all  his 
tribe,  he  was  garrulous  and  I  had  to  appeal  to  the  nurse 
to  stop  him  talking.  Afterward  I  was  very  glad  I  had 
endured  him.  Lalage  and  Hilda  called  on  me  at  two 
o'clock,  and  I  should  not  have  liked  them  to  see  me  in 
the  state  I  was  in  before  the  barber  came.  They  both 
looked  fresh  and  vigorous.  Electioneering  evidently 
agreed  with  them. 

"We  looked  in,"  said  Lalage,  "because  we  thought 
you  might  want  to  be  cheered  up  a  bit.  You  can't  have 
many  visitors  now  that  poor  Tithers  is  gone." 

"Dead?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  yet  at  least,  and  we  hope  he  won't. 
Tithers  means  well  and  I  daresay  it's  not  his  fault  if  he 
don't  speak  the  truth." 

"They've  put  him  in  prison,  I  suppose,    I  hardly 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  175 

thought  they'd  allow  him  to  chop  up  Selby-Harrison  in 
the  College  Park." 

Hilda  gaped  at  me.  Lalage  went  over  to  the  nurse 
and  whispered  something  in  her  ear.  The  nurse  shook 
her  head  and  said  that  my  temperature  was  normal. 

"If  you're  not  raving,"  said  Lalage,  "you're  de- 
liberately talking  nonsense.  I  don't  know  what  you  mean, 
nor  does  Hilda." 

"It  ought  to  be  fairly  obvious,"  I  said,  "that  I'm 
alluding  to  Mr.  Titherington's  attempt  to  find  out  Hilda's 
surname  from  young  Selby-Harrison." 

Hilda  giggled  convulsively.  Then  she  got  out  her 
pocket  handkerchief  and  choked. 

"Tithers,"  said  Lalage,  "is  past  caring  about  any- 
body's name.  He's  got  influenza.  It  came  on  him  the 
night  before  last  at  twelve  o'clock.  He's  pretty  bad." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that.  I  was  afraid  he  might  have 
been  arrested  in  Dublin.  If  it's  only  influenza  there's 
no  reason  why  he  shouldn't  send  me  the  key  of  the  bag. 
I  suppose  you'll  be  going  round  to  see  him  in  the  course 
of  the  afternoon,  Lalage." 

"We  hadn't  thought  of  doing  that,"  said  Lalage,  "but 
of  course  we  can  if  you  particularly  want  us  to." 

"I  wish  you  would,  and  tell  him  to  send  me  the  key 
of  the  bag  at  once.  You  could  bring  it  back  with  you." 

" Certainly,"  said  Lalage.     " Is  that  all? " 

"That's  all  I  want;  but  it  would  be  civil  to  ask  how  he 
is." 

"There's  no  use  making  a  special,  formal  visit  for  a 
trifle  like  that.  Hilda  will  run  round  at  once.  It  won't 
take  her  ten  minutes," 


176  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

Hilda  hesitated. 

"Run  along,  Hilda,"  said  Lalage. 

Hilda  still  hesitated.  It  occurred  to  me  that  she  might 
not  know  where  Titherington's  house  was. 

"Turn  to  the  right,"  I  said,  "as  soon  as  you  get  out 
of  the  hotel.  Then  go  on  to  the  end  of  the  street.  Mr. 
Titherington's  house  is  at  the  corner  and  stands  a  little 
way  back.  It  has  *  Sandringham '  in  gilt  letters  on 
the  gate.  You  can't  miss  it.  In  fact,  you  can  see  it 
from  the  door  of  the  hotel.  Nurse  will  show  it  to  you." 

Even  then  Hilda  did  not  start. 

"The  key  of  what  bag?"  she  asked. 

"Is  it  any  particular  bag?"  said  Lalage. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  I  said.  "What  on  earth  would  be 
the  use ?" 

"Will  Tithers  knows  what  bag  you  mean?"  said 
Lalage. 

"He  will.  Now  that  he  has  influenza  himself  he  can't 
help  knowing." 

"Off  with  you,  Hilda." 

This  time  Hilda  started,  slowly.  The  nurse,  who 
evidently  thought  that  Hilda  was  being  badly  treated, 
went  with  her.  She  certainly  took  her  as  far  as  the  hotel 
door.  She  may  have  gone  all  the  way  to  Titherington's 
house.  Lalage  sat  down  opposite  me  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"We  are  having  a  high  old  time,"  she  said.  "Now 
that  Tithers  is  gone  and  O'Donoghue,  who  appears  to 
be  rather  an  ass,  professes  to  have  a  sore  throat " 

She  winked  at  me. 

"Do  you  suspect  him  of  having  influenza?"  I  asked. 

"Of  course,  but  he  won't  own  up  if  he  can  help  it." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  177 

"Vittie  is  only  shamming,"  I  said.  "Titherington 
told  me  so,  he  may  emerge  at  any  moment." 

"It's  just  like  Tithers  to  say  that.  The  one  thing 
he  cannot  do  is  speak  the  truth.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
Vittie  is  in  a  dangerous  condition.  His  aunt  told  me  so." 

"Have  you  been  to  see  him." 

"No.  The  aunt  came  round  to  us  this  morning  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  and  begged  us  to  spare  Vittie." 

"I  suppose  the  things  you  have  been  saying  about 
him  have  made  him  worse." 

"According  to  his  aunt  they  keep  him  in  such  an 
excitable  state  that  he  can't  sleep.  I  told  her  I  was 
jolly  glad  to  hear  it.  That  just  shows  the  amount  of 
good  the  A.S.P.L.  is  doing  in  the  district.  It's  making 
its  power  felt  in  every  direction." 

"If  Vittie  dies " 

"He  won't.  That  sort  of  man  never  does.  I'm  sorry 
for  the  aunt  of  course.  She  seemed  a  quiet,  respectable 
sort  of  woman  and,  curiously  enough,  very  fond  of 
Vittie.  I  told  her  that  I'd  do  anything  I  conscientiously 
could  to  lull  off  Vittie,  but  that  I  had  my  duty  to  per- 
form. And  I  have,  you  know.  I'm  clearing  the  air." 

"It  wants  it  badly.  McMeekin  told  me  two  days  ago 
he  had  forty  cases  and  there  are  evidently  a  lot  more 
now." 

"I'm  not  talking  about  microbes,"  said  Lalage.  "What 
I'm  talking  about  is  the  moral  'at'." 

I  thought  for  a  moment. 

—  "titude?"  I  ventured  to  suggest. 

"No,"  said  Lalage,  "  — mosphere.  It  wants  it  far 
worse  than  the  other  air.  I  had  no  idea  till  I  took  on 


178  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

this  job  that  politics  are  such  utter  sinks  as  they  are. 
What  you  tell  me  now  about  Vittie  is  just  another  ex- 
ample of  what  I  mean.  I  dare  say  now  it  will  turn  out 
that  he  went  to  bed  in  the  hope  of  escaping  my  exposure 
of  the  way  he's  been  telling  lies." 

"Titherington  hinted,"  I  said,  "that  he  did  it  in  the 
hope  of  influencing  McMeekin's  vote.  Fees,  you  know." 

"That's  worse." 

"A  great  deal  worse." 

"Funk,"  said  Lalage,  "which  is  what  I  did  suspect 
him  of,  is  comparatively  honest,  but  a  stratagem  of  the 
kind  you  suggest,  is  as  bad  as  felony.  I  shall  certainly 
have  at  him  for  that." 

"Titherington  will  be  tremendously  pleased  if  you  do." 

"I'm  not  trying  to  please  Tithers.  I'm  acting  in  the 
interests  of  public  morality." 

"Still,"  I  said,  ^there's  no  harm  in  pleasing  Tithers 
incidentally." 

"I  have  a  big  meeting  on  to-night.  Hilda  takes  the 
chair,  and  I'll  rub  it  in  about  Vittie  shamming  sick.  I 
never  heard  anything  more  disgraceful.  Can  Tithers 
be  playing  the  same  game,  do  you  think?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said.  "Hilda  will  be  able  to  tell 
us  that  when  she  comes  back." 

Hilda  came  back  so  soon  that  I  think  she  must  have 
run  part  of  the  way  at  least.  Probably  she  ran  back, 
when  the  nurse  was  not  with  her. 

"He  won't  send  you  the  key,"  she  said,  "but  he  wants 
you  to  send  him  the  bag." 

"Is  he  shamming?"  said  Lalage,  "or  has  he  really 
got  it?" 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  179 

"I  don't  know.     I  didn't  see  him." 

"If  you  didn't  see  him,"  I  said  hopefully,  "you  may 
be  wrong  after  all  about  his  wanting  the  bag.  He  can't 
be  so  selfish." 

"Who  did  you  see?"  said  Lalage. 

"Mrs.  Titherington,"  said  Hilda.     "She " 

"Fancy  there  being  a  Mrs.  Tithers,"  said  Lalage. 
"How  frightfully  funny!  What  was  she  like  to  look 
at?" 

"Never  mind  that  for  the  present,  Hilda,"  I  said. 
"Just  tell  me  about  the  key." 

"She  took  your  message  up  to  him,"  said  Hilda,  "and 
came  down  again  in  a  minute  looking  very  red  in 
the  face." 

"Titherington  must  have  sworn  at  her,"  I  said.  "  What 
a  brute  that  man  is!" 

"You'd  better  take  him  round  the  bag  at  once,"  said 
Lalage.  "Where  is  it?" 

"He  shan't  have  the  bag,"  I  said.  "There are  only 
eight  bottles  left  and  I  want  them  myself." 

"Bottles  of  what?" 

"Champagne,  of  course." 

"His  or  yours?"  asked  Lalage. 

"They  were  his  at  first.  They're  mine  now,  for  he 
gave  them  to  me,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  them." 

"I  don't  see  what  all  the  fuss  is  about,"  said  Lalage. 
"Do  you,  Hilda?  I  suppose  you  and  Tithers  can  both 
afford  to  buy  a  few  more  bottles  if  you  want  them." 

"You  don't  understand,"  I  said.  "I'm  quite  ready 
to  give  a  sovereign  a  bottle  if  necessary,  and  I'm  sure  that 
Titherington  would,  too.  The  point  is  that  my  nurse 


180  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

won't  let  me  have  any,  and  I  don't  suppose  Tithering- 
ton's  wife  will  let  him.  That  ass  McMeekin  insists  on 
poisoning  me  with  barley  water,  and  Titherington's 
doctor,  whoever  he  is,  is  most  likely  doing  the 
same." 

"I  see,"  said  Lalage.  "This  just  bears  out  what  I've 
been  saying  all  along  about  the  utter  want  of  common 
honesty  in  political  life.  Here  are  you  and  Tithers 
actually  quarrelling  about  which  of  you  is  to  be  allowed 
to  lie  continuously.  You  are  deliberately  deceiving 
your  doctor  and  nurse.  Tithers  wants  to  deceive  his  wife, 
which  is,  if  anything,  a  shade  worse.  Hilda,  find  that 
bag." 

"Lalage,"  I  said,  "you're  not  going  to  give  it  to 
Titherington,  are  you?  It  wouldn't  be  good  for  him, 
it  wouldn't  really." 

"Make  your  mind  quite  easy  about  that,"  said  Lalage. 
"I'm  not  going  to  give  it  to  either  of  you.  Hilda,  look 
under  the  bed.  That's  just  the  idiotic  sort  of  place 
Tithers  would  hide  a  thing." 

I  heard  Hilda  grovelling  about  on  the  floor.  A  minute 
later  she  was  dragging  the  bag  out. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it,  Lalage?" 

"Take  it  away  and  keep  it  myself  till  you're  both  well." 

"We  never  shall  be,"  I  said.  "We  shall  die.  Please, 
Lalage,  please  don't." 

"It's  the  only  honest  course,"  said  Lalage. 

I  made  an  effort  to  assert  myself,  though  I  knew  it  was 
useless. 

"There  is  such  a  thing,"  I  said,  "as  carrying  honesty 
too  far.  All  extremes  are  wrong.  There  are  lots  of 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  181 

occasions  on  which  it  isn't  at  all  right  to  tell  the  literal 
truth." 

"None,"  said  Lalage. 

"Suppose  a  robber  was  robbing  you,  and  you  had  a 
five-pound  note  inside  your  sock  and  suppose  he  said  to 
you,  'Have  you  any  more  money?' ' 

"That  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  way  you  and  Tithers 
have  conspired  together  to  deceive  the  very  people  who 
are  trying  to  do  you  good." 

"Lalage,"  I  said,  "I've  subscribed  liberally  to  the 
funds  of  the  society.  I'll  subscribe  again.  I  did  my 
best  for  you  at  the  time  of  the  bishop  row.  I  don't  think 
you  ought  to  turn  on  me  now  because  I'm  adopting  the 
only  means  in  my  power  of  resisting  a  frightful  tyranny. 
You  might  just  as  well  call  it  dishonest  of  a  prisoner  to 
try  to  escape  because  he  doesn't  tell  the  gaoler  before- 
hand how  he's  going  to  do  it." 

"Hilda,"  said  Lalage,  "collar  that  bag  and  come  on." 

"Lalage,"  I  said  sternly,  "if  you  take  that  bag  I'll 
write  straight  to  the  Archdeacon." 

Hilda  was  already  outside  the  door.     Lalage  turned. 

"It  will  be  much  more  unpleasant  for  you  than  for 
me,"  she  said,  "if  you  bring  the  Archdeacon  down  here. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  him.  You  are." 

"  I'll  write  to  Miss  Battersby.  I'll  write  to  the  Provost, 
and  to  Miss  Pettigrew.  I'll  write  to  Hilda's  mother. 
I'll  get  Selby-Harrison  to  write,  too.  I'll  - 

Lalage  was  gone.  I  rang  the  bell  savagely  and  told 
the  nurse  to  get  my  pens,  ink,  and  paper.  I  thoroughly 
agreed  with  Titherington.  Lalage's  proceedings  must 
be  stopped  at  once. 


CHAPTER  XV 

T  WROTE  the  first  page  of  a  letter  to  the  Archdeacon 
•*•  and  expressed  myself,  so  far  as  I  could  in  that 
limited  space,  strongly.  I  gave  him  to  understand  that 
Lalage  must  be  either  enticed  or  forced  to  leave  Bally- 
gore.  I  intended  to  go  onto  a  description  of  the  sort  of 
things  Lalage  had  been  doing,  of  Titherington's  helpless- 
ness and  Vittie's  peril.  But  I  was  brought  up  short  at 
the  end  of  the  first  page  by  the  want  of  blotting  paper. 
The  nurse  brought  me  two  pens,  a  good  sized  bottle  of 
ink,  several  quires  of  paper  and  about  fifty  envelopes. 
Then  she  went  out  for  her  afternoon  walk,  and  I  did  not 
discover  until  after  she  had  gone  that  I  had  no  blotting 
paper.  The  only  course  open  to  me  was  to  wait,  as 
patiently  as  I  could,  until  the  first  page  of  the  letter  dried. 
It  took  a  long  time  to  dry,  because  I  was  very  angry  when 
I  began  to  write  and  had  pressed  heavily  on  the  pen.  The 
crosses  of  my  t's  were  like  shortbread  canals.  The  loops 
of  the  e's,  1's  and  such  letters  were  deep  pools,  and  I 
had  underlined  one  word  with  some  vigour.  I  waved  the 
sheet  to  and  fro  in  the  air.  When  I  got  tired  of  waving 
it  I  propped  it  up  against  the  fender  and  let  the  heat  of 
the  fire  play  on  it. 

While  I  was  waiting  my  anger  gradually  cooled  and  I 
began  to  see  that  Lalage  was  perfectly  right  in  saying 
that  I  should  suffer  most  if  the  Archdeacon  came  to  our 

182 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  183 

rescue.  The  story  of  the  champagne  in  the  bag  would 
leak  out  at  once.  The  Archdeacon,  as  I  recollected,  al- 
ready suspected  me  of  intemperance.  When  he  heard 
that  I  was  drinking  secretly  and  keeping  a  private  supply 
of  wine  he  would  be  greatly  shocked  and  would  probably 
feel  that  it  was  his  duty  to  act  firmly.  He  would,  almost 
certainly,  hold  a  consultation  with  McMeekin.  Mc- 
Meekin  is  just  the  sort  of  man  to  resent  anything  in  the 
way  of  a  professional  slight  from  one  of  his  patients. 
Goaded  on  by  the  Archdeacon  he  would  invent  some 
horrible  punishment  for  me.  In  mediaeval  times,  so  I 
am  given  to  understand,  the  clergy  tortured  people,  in 
cells,  for  the  good  of  their  souls,  and  any  one  who  had 
a  private  enemy  denounced  him  to  the  Grand  Inquisitor. 
Faith  has  nowadays  given  way  before  the  assaults  of 
science  and  it  is  the  doctors  who  possess  the  powers  of 
the  rack.  Instead  of  being  suspected  of  heresy  a  man 
is  now  accused  of  having  an  abscess  on  his  appendix.  His 
doom  is  much  the  same,  to  have  his  stomach  cut  open 
with  knives,  though  the  name  given  to  it  is  different.  It 
is  now  called  an  operation.  The  older  term,  rather  more 
expressive,  was  disembowelling.  Four  hundred  years 
ago  McMeekin,  if  he  had  a  grievance  against  me,  would 
have  denounced  me  to  the  Archdeacon.  Now,  things 
have  changed  so  far  that  it  is  the  Archdeacon  who  de- 
nounces me  to  McMeekin.  The  result  for  me  is  much  the 
same.  I  do  not  suppose  that  my  case  would  either  then 
or  now  be  one  for  extreme  penalties.  I  am  not  the 
stuff  of  which  obstinate  heretics  are  made,  nor 
have  I  any  heroic  tumour  which  would  render  me 
liable  to  the  knife.  Slow  starvation,  a  diet  of  barley 


184  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

water,  beef  tea,  and  milk  puddings,  would  meet  the 
requirements  of  my  case.  But  I  did  not  want  any 
more  barley  water  atid  beef  tea.  I  have  always,  from 
my  childhood  up,  hated  milk  puddings.  I  thought  over 
my  position  carefully  and  by  the  time  the  first  sheet 
of  my  letter  to  the  Archdeacon  was  dry,  I  had  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  I  had  better  not  go  on  with  it. 
I  burned  it. 

Lalage's  meeting,  held  that  night,  was  an  immense 
success.  The  town  hall  was  packed  to  its  utmost  capacity 
and  I  am  told  that  Lalage  spoke  very  well  indeed.  She 
certainly  had  a  good  subject  and  a  fine  opportunity. 
Vittie,  O'Donoghue,  and  I  were  all  in  bed.  Our  chief 
supporters,  Titherington  and  the  others,  were  helpless, 
with  temperatures  ranging  from  102  to  105  degrees. 
But  even  if  we  had  all  been  quite  well  and  in  full  posses- 
sion of  our  fighting  powers  we  could  not  have  made  any 
effective  defence  against  Lalage.  She  had  an  astonish- 
ingly good  case.  Titherington,  for  instance,  might  have 
talked  his  best,  but  he  could  not  have  produced  even  a 
plausible  explanation  of  those  two  letters  of  ours  on  the 
temperance  question.  O'Donoghue  was  in  a  worse 
case.  He  had  made  statements  about  budgets  and  things 
of  that  kind  which  Lalage's  favourite  word  only  feebly 
describes.  Vittie,  apart  altogether  from  any  question 
of  the  genuineness  of  his  influenza,  was  in  the  narrowest 
straits  of  us  all.  He  appears  to  have  lied  with  an  abandon 
and  a  recklessness  far  superior  to  O'Donoghue's  or  mine. 
Lalage,  so  I  heard  afterward,  spent  an  hour  and  a  half 
denouncing  us  and  devoted  about  two-thirds  of  the  time 
to  Vittie.  His  aunts  must  have  had  a  trying  time  with 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  185 

him  that  night  unless  McMeekin  came  to  their  rescue 
with  an  unusually  powerful  sleeping  draught. 

What  Lalage  said  did  not  keep  me  awake;  but  the 
immediate  results  of  her  meeting  broke  in  upon  a  sleep 
which  I  needed  very  badly.  My  nurse  left  me  for  the 
night  and  I  dropped  off  into  a  pleasant  doze.  I  dreamed, 
I  recollect,  that  the  Archdeacon  was  bringing  me  bottles  of 
whiskey  in  Titherington's  bag  and  that  Hilda  was  standing 
beside  me  with  the  key.  I  was  roused,  just  as  I  was 
about  to  open  the  bag,  by  a  terrific  noise  of  bands  in  the 
streets.  It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock,  and  even  during 
elections,  bands  at  that  hour  are  unusual.  Besides,  the 
bands  which  I  heard  were  playing  more  confusedly  than 
even  the  most  excited  bands  do.  It  occurred  to  me  that 
there  might  possibly  be  a  riot  going  on  and  that  the 
musicians  were  urging  forward  the  combatants.  I 
crawled  out  of  bed  and  stumbled  across  the  room.  I  was 
just  in  time  to  see  a  torchlight  procession  passing  my 
hotel.  The  night  was  windy  and  the  torches  flared  most 
successfully,  giving  quite  enough  light  to  make  every- 
thing plainly  visible. 

At  the  head  of  the  procession  were  two  bands  a  good 
deal  mixed  up  together.  I  at  once  recognized  the  uni- 
form of  the  Loyal  True  Blue  Fife  and  Drums,  whose 
members  were  my  supporters  to  a  man,  and  who  possess 
many  more  drums  than  fifes.  The  bright-green  peaked 
caps  of  the  other  players  told  me  that  they  were  the 
Wolfe  Tone  Invincible  Brass  Band.  It  usually  played 
tunes  favourable  to  O'Donoghue.  Vittie  did  not  own  a 
band.  If  his  supporters  had  been  musical,  and  if  there 
had  been  any  tunes  in  the  world  which  expressed  their 


186  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

political  convictions,  there  would,  no  doubt,  have  been 
three  bands  in  the  procession.  The  True  Blues  and  the 
Wolfe  Tones  were,  when  they  passed  me,  playing  different 
tunes.  In  every  other  respect  the  utmost  harmony  pre- 
vailed between  them.  The  chief  drummer  of  the  True 
Blues  and  the  cornet  player  of  the  Wolfe  Tones  stopped 
just  under  my  windows  to  exchange  instruments,  an 
act  of  courtesy  which  must  be  unparalleled  in  Irish  history. 
I  was  not  able  to  hear  distinctly  what  sort  of  attempt  my 
supporter  made  at  the  cornet  part  of  "  God  Save  Ireland. " 
But  O'Donoghue's  friend  beat  time  to  "The  Protestant 
Boys"  on  the  drum  with  an  accuracy  quite  surprising 
considering  that  he  cannot  often  have  practised  the  tune. 
Behind  the  bands  closely  surrounded  by  torch  bearers 
came  a  confused  crowd  of  men  dragging  and  pushing  a 
wagonette,  from  which  the  horses  had  been  taken.  In 
the  wagonette  were  Lalage  and  Hilda.  Lalage  was  stand- 
ing up  in  the  driver's  seat,  a  most  perilous  position.  She 
had  in  one  hand  a  large  roll  of  white  ribbon,  the  now  well- 
known  symbol  of  the  Association  for  the  Suppression  of 
Public  Lying,  and  in  her  other  hand  a  pair  of  scissors. 
She  snipped  off  bits  of  the  ribbon  and  allowed  them  to  go 
fluttering  away  from  her  in  the  wind.  The  crowd  scram- 
bled eagerly  for  them,  and  it  was  plain  that  the  association 
was  enrolling  members  in  hundreds.  Hilda  seemed  less 
happy.  She  was  crouching  in  the  body  of  the  wagonette 
and  looked  frightened.  Perhaps  she  was  thinking  of  her 
mother.  I  crept  back  to  bed  when  the  procession  had 
passed  and  felt  deeply  thankful  that  I  was  laid  up  with 
influenza.  Lalage's  meeting  was,  without  doubt,  an 
unqualified  success. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  187 

Newspapers  are,  as  a  rule,  busy  enough  about  what 
happens  even  in  quite  obscure  constituencies  during  by- 
elections.  If  ours  had  been  one  of  those  occasional  con- 
tests the  subject  of  public  lying,  Lalage's  portrait  and  the 
story  of  the  two  bands  men  would  have  been  quite  fa- 
miliar to  all  readers.  During  a  general  election  very  few 
details  of  particular  campaigns  can  be  printed.  Editors 
are  kept  busy  enough  chronicling  the  results  and  keeping 
up  to  date  the  various  clocks,  ladders,  kites  and  other 
devices  with  which  they  inform  their  readers  of  the 
state  of  parties.  I  was  therefore  quite  hopeful  that  our 
performances  in  Ballygore  would  escape  notice.  They 
did  not.  Some  miserably  efficient  and  enterprising  re- 
porter strayed  into  the  town  on  the  very  evening  of 
Lalage's  meeting  and  wrote  an  account  of  her  torchlight 
procession.  The  whole  thing  appeared  next  morning  in 
the  paper  which  he  represented.  Other  papers  copied  his 
paragraphs,  and  very  soon  hundreds  of  them  in  all  parts 
of  the  three  kingdoms  were  making  merry  over  the  plight 
of  the  candidates  who  lay  in  bed  groaning  while  a  piratical 
young  woman  took  away  their  characters.  I  did  not 
in  the  least  mind  being  laughed  at.  I  have  always 
laughed  at  myself  and  am  quite  pleased  that  other  peo- 
ple should  share  my  amusement.  But  I  greatly  feared 
that  complications  of  various  kinds  would  follow  the 
publicity  which  was  given  to  our  affairs.  Vittie  almost 
certainly,  O'Donoghue  probably,  would  resent  being 
made  to  look  ridiculous.  Hilda's  mother  and  the  Arch- 
deacon might  not  care  for  the  way  in  which  Lalage  em- 
phasized the  joke. 

My  fellow  candidates  were  the  first  to  object.    I  re- 


188  j  IMAGE'S  LOVERS 

ceived  letters  from  them  both,  written  by  secretaries 
and  signed  very  shakily,  asking  me  to  cooperate  with 
them  in  suppressing  Lalage.  O'Donoghue,  who  was  ap- 
parently not  quite  so  ill  as  Vittie  was,  also  suggested  that 
we  should  publish,  over  our  three  names,  a  dignified 
rejoinder  to  the  mirth  of  the  press.  He  enclosed  a  rough 
draft  of  the  dignified  rejoinder  and  invited  criticism  and 
amendment  from  me.  My  proper  course  of  action  was 
obvious  enough.  I  made  my  nurse  reply  with  a  bulletin, 
dictated  by  me,  signed  by  her  and  McMeekin,  to  the 
effect  that  I  was  too  ill  to  read  letters  and  totally 
incapable  of  answering  them.  I  gave  McMeekin  twenty- 
five  pounds  for  medical  attendance  up  to  date,  just 
before  I  asked  him  to  sign  the  bulletin.  I  also  pre- 
sented the  nurse  with  a  brooch  of  gold  filagree  work, 
which  I  had  brought  home  with  me  from  Portugal, 
intending  to  give  it  to  my  mother.  It  would  have 
been  churlish  of  them,  afterward,  to  refuse  to  sign 
my  bulletin. 

This  disposed  of  Vittie  and  O'Donoghue  for  the  time. 
But  I  knew  that  there  was  more  trouble  before  me.  I 
was  scarcely  surprised  when  Canon  Beresford  walked  into 
my  room  one  evening  at  about  nine  o'clock.  He  looked 
harassed,  shaken,  and  nervous.  I  asked  him  at  once  if 
he  were  an  influenza  convalescent. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I'm  not.     I  wish  I  were." 

"There  are  worse  things  than  influenza.  I  used  not 
to  think  so  at  first,  but  now  I  know  there  are.  Why 
don't  you  get  it?  I  suppose  you've  come  to  see  me  in 
hope  of  infection. " 

"No.     I  came  to  warn  you.     We've  just  this  moment 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  189 

arrived  and  you  may  expect  us  on  you  to-morrow 
morning. " 

"You  and  the  Archdeacon?" 

"No.  Thank  goodness,  nothing  so  bad  as  that.  The 
Archdeacon  is  at  home." 

"I  wonder  at  that.  I  fully  expected  he'd  have  been 
here." 

"He  would  have  been  if  he  could.  He  wanted  to  come, 
but  of  course  it  was  impossible.  You  heard,  I  suppose, 
that  the  bishop  is  dead. " 

"No,  I  didn't  hear.     Influenza?" 

"Pneumonia,  and  that  ties  the  Archdeacon." 

"What  a  providential  thing!  But  you  said  'we.' 
Is  Thormanby  here?" 

"No,  Thormanby  told  me  yesterday  that  he'd  washed 
his  hands  of  the  whole  affair. " 

"That's  exactly  what  I've  done,"  I  said.  "It's  by 
far  the  most  sensible  thing  to  do.  I  wonder  you  didn't. " 

"I  tried  to,"  said  the  Canon  piteously.  "I  did  my 
best.  I  have  engaged  a  berth  on  a  steamer  going  to 
Brazil,  one  that  hasn't  got  a  wireless  telegraphic  instal- 
lation, and  I've  secured  a  locum  tenens  for  the  parish. 
But  I  shan't  be  able  to  go.  You  can  guess  why." 

"The  Archdeacon?" 

The  Canon  nodded  sadly.  I  did  not  care  to  make 
more  inquiries  about  the  Archdeacon. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "if  neither  he  nor  Thormanby  is  with 
you,  who  is?" 

"Miss  Battersby  for  one.     She  volunteered." 

I  felt  relieved.     Miss  Battersby  is  never  formidable. 

"She  won't  matter,"  I  said.     "Lalage  and  Hilda  will 


190  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

put  her  to  bed  and  keep  her  there.  That's  what  they  did 
with  her  on  the  way  to  Lisbon. " 

"And  Miss  Pettigrew,"  said  the  Canon. 

"How  on  earth  does  she  come  to  be  mixed  up  in  it?'* 

"Your  mother  telegraphed  to  her  and  begged  her  to 
come  down  with  us  to  see  what  she  could  do.  She's 
supposed  to  have  some  influence  with  Lalage." 

"What  sort  of  woman  is  she?  I  don't  know  her  per- 
sonally. Lalage  says  she's  the  kind  of  person  that  you 
hate  and  yet  can't  help  rather  loving,  although  you're 
afraid  of  her.  Is  that  your  impression  of  her?" 

"She  has  a  strongly  developed  sense  of  humour," 
said  the  Canon,  "and  I'm  afraid  she's  rather  determined. " 

"What  do  you  expect  to  do?" 

"I  don't  myself  expect  to  do  anything,"  said  the 
Canon. 

"I  meant  to  say  what  is  the  ostensible  object  of  the 
expedition?" 

"The  Archdeacon  spoke  of  our  rescuing  Lalage  from 
an  equivocal  position. " 

"You  ought  to  make  that  man  bishop,"  I  said. 

"Miss  Battersby  kept  on  assuring  us  all  the  way  down 
in  the  train  that  Lalage  is  a  most  lovable  child,  very 
gentle  and  tractable  if  taken  the  right  way,  but  high 
spirited. " 

"That  won't  help  her  much,  because  she's  no  nearer 
now  than  she  was  ten  years  ago  to  finding  out  what  is 
the  right  way  to  take  Lalage.  What  are  Miss  Petti- 
grew's  views?" 

"She  varies,"  said  the  Canon,  "between  chuckling  over 
your  position  and  wishing,  that  Lalage  was  safely  married 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  191 

with  some  babies  to  look  after.     She  says  there'll  be  no 
peace  in  Ireland  until  that  happens." 

"That's  an  utterly  silly  scheme.  There's  nobody 
here  to  marry  her  except  Vittie,  and  I'm  perfectly  certain 
his  aunts  wouldn't  let  him.  He  has  two  aunts.  If 
that  is  all  Miss  Pettigrew  has  to  suggest  she  might  as 
well  have  stopped  at  home. " 

The  Canon  sighed. 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  be  going,"  he  said,  "I  promised 
Miss  Pettigrew  that  I'd  be  back  in  half  an  hour.  We're 
going  to  see  Lalage  at  once." 

"Lalage  will  be  in  bed  by  the  time  you  get  there;  if 
she's  not  organizing  another  torchlight  procession.  You'd 
far  better  stop  where  you  are." 

"I'd  like  to,  but- 

"  You  can  get  a  bed  here  and  send  over  for  your  things. 
Your  two  ladies  are  in  the  other  hotel,  I  suppose. " 

"Yes.  We  knew  you  were  here  and  Miss  Battersby 
seemed  a  little  afraid  of  catching  influenza,  so  we  went 
to  the  other." 

"That's  all  right.  You'll  be  quite  safe  for  the  night 
if  you  stop  here. " 

"I  wish  I  could,  but " 

"You'll  not  do  any  good  by  talking  to  Lalage.  You 
know  that. " 

"I  know  that  of  course;  but " 

"It  won't  be  at  all  pleasant  for  you  when  Miss  Petti- 
grew comes  out  with  that  plan  of  hers  for  marrying  La- 
lage to  Vittie.  There'll  be  a  horrid  row.  From  what 
I  know  of  Lalage  I  feel  sure  that  she'll  resent  the  sug- 
gestion. There'll  be  immense  scope  for  language  in  the 


192  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

argument  which  follows  and  they'll  all  feel  freer  to  speak 
out  if  there  isn't  a  church  dignitary  standing  there 
listening. " 

"I  know  all  that,  but  still " 

"You  don't  surely  mean  to  say  that  you  want  to  go 
and  wrangle  with  Lalage?" 

"Of  course  not.  I  hate  that  kind  of  thing  and  always 
did;  but  - 

"Out  with  it,  Canon.  You  stick  at  that  'but'  every 
time." 

"I  promised  Miss  Pettigrew  I'd  go  back." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Not  quite.  The  fact  is  —  you  don't  know  Miss 
Pettigrew,  so  you  won't  understand." 

"You're  afraid  of  her?"  I  said. 

"Well,  yes,  I  am.  Besides,  the  Archdeacon  said  some 
stiff  things  to  me  before  we  started,  uncommonly  stiff 
things.  Stiff  isn't  the  word  I  want,  but  you'll  probably 
know  what  I  mean. " 

"Prickly,"  I  suggested. 

"Yes,  prickly.  Prickly  things  about  the  responsibility 
of  fatherhood  and  the  authority  of  parents.  I  really 
must  go. " 

"Very  well.  If  you  must,  you  must,  of  course.  But 
don't  drag  me  into  it.  Remember  that  I've  got  influenza 
and  if  Miss  Pettigrew  and  Miss  Battersby  come  here  I'll 
infect  them.  I  rely  on  you  to  nip  in  the  bud  any  sugges- 
tion that  I've  anything  to  do  with  the  affair  one  way  or 
-the  other.  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I'd  rather  see  Lalage 
heading  a  torchlight  procession  every  day  in  the  week 
than  married  to  Vittie. " 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  193 

"The  Archdeacon  says  that  you  are  the  person  chiefly 
responsible  for  what  he  calls  Lalage's  compromising 
position. " 

"The  Archdeacon  may  say  what  he  likes.  I'm  not 
responsible.  Good  heavens,  Canon,  how  can  you  suppose 
for  an  instant  that  anybody  could  be  responsible  for 
Lalage?" 

"I  didn't  suppose  it.  I  was  only  quoting  the  Arch- 
deacon. " 

"I  wish  to  goodness  the  Archdeacon  would  mind  his 
own  business!" 

"That's  what  he's  doing,"  said  the  Canon.  "If  he 
wasn't  he'd  be  here  now.  He  wanted  to  come.  If  the 
poor  old  bishop  had  held  out  another  week  he  would 
have  come." 

The  Canon  left  me  after  that. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FULLY  expected  a  visit  from  Miss  Pettigrew  in  the 
•*•  course  of  the  next  day.  I  was  not  disappointed. 
She  arrived  at  three  o'clock,  bringing  the  Canon  with  her. 
I  was  greatly  impressed  by  her  appearance.  She  has 
bright  eyes  which  twinkled,  and  she  holds  her  head 
very  straight,  pushed  well  back  on  her  shoulders  so  that 
a  good  deal  of  her  neck  is  visible  below  her  chin.  I 
felt  at  once  that  she  was  the  sort  of  woman  who  could 
do  what  she  liked  at  me.  I  attempted  my  only  possible 
line  of  defence. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  of  influenza?"  I  said.  "Is  it 
wise ?" 

"I'm  not  in  the  least  afraid,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew. 

"Not  for  yourself,  of  course, "  I  said.  "But  you  might 
carry  it  back  to  Miss  Battersby.  I'm  horribly  infectious 
just  now.  Even  the  nurse  washes  herself  in  Condy's 
Fluid  after  being  near  me. " 

"Miss  Battersby  must  take  her  chance  like  the  rest 
of  us.  I've  come  to  talk  about  Lalage. " 

"I  told  the  Canon  last  night,"  I  said,  "that  I'm  not 
capable  of  dealing  with  Lalage.  I  really  am  not.  I 
know  because  I've  often  tried." 

"Listen  to  me  for  a  minute,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew. 
"We've  got  to  get  Lalage  out  of  this.  I'm  not  given  to 
taking  conventional  views  of  things  and  I'm  the  last 

194 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  195 

woman  in  Ireland  to  want  to  make  girls  conform  to  the 
standard  of  what's  called  ladylikeness.  But  Lalage  has 
gone  too  far.  The  newspapers  are  full  of  her  and  that's 
not  good  for  any  girl." 

"I'm  sure,"  I  said,  "that  if  you  represent  that  view  of 

the  case  to  Lalage " 

I  "We  have.  We  spent  two  hours  with  her  last  night 
and  three  hours  this  morning.  We  didn't  produce  the 
slightest  effect." 

"Hilda  cried,"  said  the  Canon. 

"After  all,"  I  said,  "that's  something.  I  couldn't 
have  made  Hilda  cry. " 

"Hilda  doesn't  count,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew.  "She's 
a  dear  girl  but  anybody  could  manage  her.  We  didn't 
make  Lalage  cry. " 

"No,"  I  said,  "you  couldn't,  of  course.  In  fact,  I 
expect,  Lalage  made  you  laugh. " 

Miss  Pettigrew  smiled  and  then  checked  herself. 
Amusement  struggled  with  a  certain  grimness  for  ex- 
pression on  her  face.  In  the  end  she  smiled  again. 

"Lalage  has  always  made  me  laugh,"  she  said,  "ever 
since  she  was  quite  a  little  girl.  That's  what  makes  it 
so  difficult  to  manage  her. " 

"Why  try?"  I  said.  "Lord  Thormanby  has  washed 
his  hands  of  her.  So  have  I.  The  Canon  wants  to. 
Wouldn't  it  be  simpler  if  you  did  too?" 

"It  would  be  much  simpler,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew. 
"But  I'm  not  going  to  do  it.  I  have  a  very  strong  affec- 
tion for  Lalage." 

"We  all  have,"  I  said.  "No  one,  not  even  the  Canon 
has  a  stronger  affection  than  I  have;  but  I  don't  see  how 


196  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

that  helps  us  much.  Something  more  is  required. 
If  sincere  affection  would  have  saved  Lalage  from  the 
equivocal  position  in  which  she  now  is 

Miss  Pettigrew  looked  at  me  in  a  curious  way  which 
made  me  feel  hot  and  very  uncomfortable  even  before 
I  understood  what  she  was  thinking  about.  Her  eyes 
twinkled  most  brilliantly.  The  smile  which  had  hovered 
about  her  lips  before  broadened.  I  recollected  what  the 
Canon  told  me  the  night  before.  Miss  Pettigrew  had 
suggested  marriage  for  Lalage.  I  had  at  once  thought 
of  Vittie.  Miss  Pettigrew  was  not  thinking  of  Vittie. 
I  felt  myself  getting  red  in  the  face  as  she  looked  at  me. 

"I  couldn't,"  I  said  at  last.  "This  influenza  has  com- 
pletely unstrung  me.  I  shouldn't  have  the  nerve.  You 
must  admit,  Miss  Pettigrew,  that  it  would'require  nerve." 

"I'm  not  suggesting  your  doing  it  to-day,"  said  Miss 
Pettigrew. 

"Nor  any  other  day,  "  I  said.  "I  shouldn't  be  able  to 
screw  myself  up  to  the  pitch.  I'm  not  that  kind  of  man 
at  all.  What  you  want  is  some  one  more  of  the  Young 
Lochinvar  type,  or  a  buccaneer.  They're  all  dashing 
men  who  shrink  from  nothing.  Why  not  advertise  for 
a  buccaneer?" 

"I  don't  suppose  she'd  marry  you  if  you  did  ask  her," 
said  Miss  Pettigrew. 

"I  am  sure  she  wouldn't,  so  we  needn't  go  on  talking 
about  that.  Won't  you  let  me  ring  and  get  you  a  cup 
of  tea?  They  make  quite  good  tea  in  this  hotel!" 

"It's  too  early  for  tea,  and  I  want  to  discuss  this 
business  of  Lalage's  seriously.  The  position  has  become 
quite  impossible. " 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  197 

"It's  been  that  for  more  than  a  week  —  but  it  still 
goes  on.  That's  the  worst  of  impossible  positions.  No- 
body can  ever  stop  them.  Titherington  said  it  was 
impossible  the  day  before  he  got  influenza.  You  don't 
know  Titherington,  nor  does  the  Canon.  But  if  you  did 
you'd  realize  that  he's  not  the  kind  of  man  to  let  an 
impossible  position  alone  and  yet  he  was  baffled.  I 
had  letters  yesterday  morning  from  Vittie  and  O'Don- 
oghue  asking  me  to  cooperate  with  them  in  suppressing 
Lalage.  They  see  that  the  position  is  impossible  just 
as  plainly  as  you  do.  But  they  can't  do  anything.  In 
fact  they've  gone  to  bed." 

"I'm  not  going  to  bed,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew.  "I'm 
going  to  bring  Lalage  home  with  me." 

"How?" 

"I  rather  hoped,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew,  "that  you 
might  have  some  suggestion  that  would  help  us. " 

"I  made  my  only  suggestion  to  Titherington  a  week 
ago  and  it  didn't  come  off.  There's  no  use  my  making 
it  again!" 

"What  was  it?     Perhaps  I  could  work  it  out." 

"It  wasn't  much  of  a  suggestion  really.  It  was  only 
Hilda's  mother. " 

"I've  wired  to  her  and  she'll  be  here  to-morrow.  I've 
no  doubt  that  she'll  carry  off  Hilda,  but  she  has  no 
authority  over  Lalage." 

"Nobody  has,"  said  the  Canon  despondingly.  "I've 
said  that  all  along. " 

"What  about  the  Provost  of  Trinity  College?"!  said. 
"He  tackled  her  over  the  bishops.  You  might  try  him." 

" He  won't  interfere, "  said  the  Canon.     "I  asked  him. " 


198  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  can  do  no  more.  You  can  see 
for  yourself,  Miss  Pettigrew,  that  I'm  not  in  a  state  to 
make  suggestions.  I'm  completely  exhausted  already 
and  any  further  mental  exertion  will  bring  on  a  relapse. 
Do  let  me  ring  for  tea.  I  want  it  myself. " 

The  door  opened  as  I  spoke.  I  hoped  that  my  nurse  or 
McMeekin  had  arrived  and  would  insist  on  my  being 
left  in  peace.  I  was  surprised  and,  in  spite  of  my  ex- 
haustion, pleased  to  see  Lalage  and  Hilda  walk  in. 

"Father,"  said  Lalage,  "why  didn't  you  tell  me  last 
night  that  the  bishop  is  dead?" 

"I  didn't  think  it  would  interest  you,"  said  the  Canon. 

"Of  course  it  interests  me.  When  poor  old  Pussy 
mentioned  it  to  me  just  now  I  simply  hopped  out  of  my 
shoes  with  excitement  and  delight.  So  did  Hilda." 

"Did  you  hate  the  bishop  that  much?"  I  asked. 
"Worse  than  other  bishops?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Lalage.  "I  never  saw  him  except 
once  and  then  I  thought  he  was  quite  a  lamb. " 

"Hilda,"  I  said,  "why  did  you  hop  out  of  your  shoes 
with  excitement  and  delight  when  you  heard  of  the  death 
of  an  old  gentleman  who  never  did  you  any  harm?" 

"We'll  have  to  elect  another,  won't  we?"  said  Lalage. 

A  horrible  dread  turned  me  quite  cold.  I  glanced  at 
Miss  Pettigrew.  Her  eyes  had  stopped  twinkling.  I 
read  fear,  actual  fear,  in  the  expression  of  her  face.  We 
both  shrank  from  saying  anything  which  might  lead  to 
the  confirming  of  our  worst  anticipations.  It  was  the 
Canon  who  spoke  next.  What  he  said  showed  that  he 
was  nearly  desperate. 

"Lalage,"  he  said,  "will  you  come  with  me  for  a  tour 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  199 

to  Brazil?  I've  booked  one  berth  and  I  can  easily  get 
another!" 

"I  can't  possibly  go  to  Brazil,"  said  Lalage,  "and  you 
certainly  ought  not  to  think  of  it  till  the  bishopric  election 
is  over." 

"I'll  take  Hilda,  too,"  said  the  Canon.  "I  should  like 
to  have  Hilda.  You  and  she  would  have  great  fun  to- 
gether. 

"I'll  give  Selby-Harrison  a  present  of  his  ticket," 
I  added,  "and  pay  his  hotel  expenses.  It  would  be  a 
delightful  trip." 

"Brazil,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew,  "is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  countries  in  the  world.  I  can  lend  you  a  book 
on  the  natural  history. " 

"Hilda's  mother  wouldn't  let  her  go,"  said  Lalage. 
"Would  she,  Hilda?" 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  said  Hilda.  "She  thinks  I  ought  to 
be  more  at  home. " 

"Miss  Pettigrew  will  talk  her  over,"  I  said.  "It's 
a  great  chance  for  Hilda.  She  oughtn't  to  miss  it." 

"And  Selby-Harrison  has  just  entered  the  Divinity 
School,"  said  Lalage.  "He  couldn't  possibly  afford  the 
time." 

"The  long  days  on  the  steamer,"  I  said,  "would  be 
perfectly  invaluable  to  him.  He  could  read  theology 
from  morning  to  night.  There'd  be  nothing,  except  an 
occasional  albatross,  to  distract  his  attention." 

"Those  South  American  republics,"  said  Miss  Petti- 
grew, "are  continually  having  revolutions." 

Miss  Pettigrew  is  certainly  a  very  clever  woman.  Her 
suggestion  was  the  first  thing  which  caused  Lalage  to 


200  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

waver.  A  revolution  must  be  very  attractive  to  a  girl 
of  her  temperament;  and  revolutions  are  comparatively 
rare  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Xalage  certainly 
hesitated. 

"What  do  you  think,  Hilda?"  she  asked. 

For  one  moment  I  dared  to  hope. 

"There's  been  a  lot  of  gun-running  done  out  there 
lately,"  I  said,  "and  I  heard  of  a  new  submarine  on 
the  Amazon." 

I  am  afraid  I  overdid  it.  Miss  Pettigrew  certainly 
frowned  at  me. 

"Mother  would  never  let  me,"  said  Hilda. 

I  had  forgotten  Hilda's  mother  for  the  moment.  I  saw 
at  once  that  the  idea  of  gun-running  would  frighten  her 
and  she  would  not  like  to  think  of  her  daughter  ploughing 
the  bottom  of  the  Amazon  in  a  submarine. 

"Besides,"  said  Lalage,  "it  wouldn't  be  right.  It's 
our  duty,  our  plain  duty,  to  see  this  bishopric  election 
through.  I'm  inclined  to  think  that  the  Archdeacon  is 
the  proper  man. " 

"When  do  you  start  for  the  scene  of  action?"  I 
asked. 

"At  once, "  said  Lalage.  "There's  a  train  at  six  o'clock 
this  evening.  We  left  poor  Pussy  packing  her  bag  and 
ran  round  to  tell  Miss  Pettigrew  about  the  change  in  our 
plans.  I'm  dead  sick  of  this  old  election  of  yours,  any- 
how. Aren't  you?" 

"I  am,"  I  said  fervently.  "I'm  so  sick  of  it  that  I 
don't  care  if  I  never  stand  for  Parliament  again.  By  the 
way,  Lalage,  now  that  you're  turning  your  attention  to 
church  affairs  wouldn't  it  be  as  well  to  change  the  name 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  201 

of  the  society  again.  You  might  call  it  the  Episcopal 
Election  Association.  E.  E.  A.  would  look  well  at  the 
head  of  your  notepaper  and  might  be  worked  up  into  a 
monogram." 

"I  daresay  we  shall  make  a  change,"  said  Lalage, 
"but  if  we  do  we'll  be  a  guild,  not  a  society  or  an  associa- 
tion. Guild  is  the  proper  word  for  anything  connected 
with  the  church,  or  high-class  furniture,  or  art  needle- 
work. Selby-Harrison  will  look  into  the  matter  for  us. 
But  in  any  case  it  will  be  all  right  about  you.  You'll 
still  be  a  life  member.  Come  along,  Hilda.  We  have  a 
lot  of  people  to  see  before  we  start.  I  have  to  give  out 
badges  to  about  fifty  new  members." 

"Will  that  be  necessary  now?"  I  asked. 

"Of  course.     If  anything,  more." 

"But  if  you're  changing  the  name  of  the  society?" 

"That  won't  matter  in  the  least.  Do  come  on,  Hilda. 
We  shan't  have  time  if  you  dawdle  on  here.  In  any  case 
Pussy  will  have  to  pack  our  clothes  for  us. " 

They  swept  out  of  the  room.  Miss  Pettigrew  got  up 
and  shut  the  door  after  them.  The  Canon  was  too  much 
upset  to  move. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Miss  Pettigrew,"  I  said.  "You've 
succeeded  after  all  in  getting  Lalage  out  of  this.  I  hardly 
thought  you  would. " 

"This,"  said  the  Canon,  "is  worse,  infinitely  worse." 

"I'm  not  quite  sure,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew,  "about 
the  procedure  in  these  cases.  Who  elects  bishops?" 

"The  Diocesan  Synod,"  I  said.  "Isn't  that  right, 
Canon?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  gloomily. 


202  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"And  who  constitutes  the  Diocesan  Synod?"  said 
Miss  Pettigrew. 

"A  lot  of  parsons, "  I  said.  " All  the  parsons  there  are, 
and  some  dear  old  country  gentlemen  of  blameless  lives. 
Just  the  people  really  to  appreciate  Lalage." 

"We  shall  have  more  trouble,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew. 

"Plenty,"  I  said.  "And  Thormanby  will  be  in  the 
thick  of  it.  He  won't  find  it  so  easy  to  wash  his  hands 
this  time. " 

"Nor  will  you,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew  smiling,  but  I 
think  maliciously. 

"I  shall  simply  stay  here,"  I  said,  "and  go  on  having 
influenza. " 

I  have  so  much  respect  for  Miss  Pettigrew  that  I  do  not 
like  to  say  she  grinned  at  me  but  she  certainly  employed 
a  smile  which  an  enemy  might  have  described  as  a  grin. 

"The  election  here,"  she  said,  "your  election  takes 
place,  as  I  understand,  early  next  week.  Your  mother 
will  expect  you  home  after  that." 

"Mothers  are  often  disappointed,"  I  said.  "Look 
at  Hilda's,  for  instance.  And  in  any  case  my  mother  is 
a  reasonable  woman.  She'll  respect  a  doctor's  certificate, 
and  McMeekin  will  give  me  that  if  I  ask  him. " 

The  Canon  had  evidently  not  been  attending  to  what 
Miss  Pettigrew  and  I  were  saying  to  one  another.  He 
broke  in  rather  abruptly: 

"Is  there  any  other  place  more  attractive  than  Brazil?" 

He  was  thinking  of  Lalage,  not  of  himself.  I  do  not 
think  he  cared  much  where  he  went  so  long  as  he  got  far 
from  Ireland. 

"There  are,  I  believe,"  I  said,  "still  a  few  cannibal 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  203 

tribes  left  in  the  interior  of  Borneo.  There  are  certainly 
head  hunters  there." 

"Dyaks,"  said  Miss  Pettigrew. 

"I  might  try  her  with  them,"  said  the  Canon. 

"If  Miss  Pettigrew, "  I  suggested,  "will  manage  Hilda's 
mother,  the  thing  might  possibly  be  arranged.  Selby- 
Harrison  could  practise  being  a  missionary." 

"I  shouldn't  like  Hilda  to  be  eaten,"  said  Miss  Petti- 
grew. 

"There's  no  fear  of  that,"  I  said.  "Lalage  is  well  able 
to  protect  her  from  any  cannibal. " 

"I'll  make  the  offer,"  said  the  Canon.  "Anything 
would  be  better  than  having  Lalage  attempting  to  make 
speeches  at  the  Diocesan  Synod." 

Miss  Pettigrew  had  her  packing  to  do  and  left  shortly 
afterward.  The  Canon,  who  seemed  to  be  really  de- 
pressed, sat  on  with  me  and  made  plans  for  Lalage's 
immediate  future.  From  time  to  time,  after  I  exposed 
the  hollow  mockery  of  each  plan,  he  complained  of  the 
tyranny  of  circumstance. 

"If  only  the  bishop  hadn't  died,"  he  said. 

The  dregs  of  the  influenza  were  still  hanging  about  me. 
I  lost  my  temper  with  the  Canon  in  the  end. 

"If  only,"  I  said,  "you'd  brought  up  Lalage  properly." 

"I  tried  governesses,"  he  said,  "and  I  tried  school." 

"The  only  thing  you  did  not  try,"  I  said,  "was  what 
the  Archdeacon  recommended,  a  firm  hand." 

"The  Archdeacon  never  married,"  said  the  Canon. 
"  I'm  often  sorry  he  didn't.  He  wouldn't  say  things  like 
that  if  he  had  a  child  of  his  own." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

rjlHERE  was  a  great  deal  of  angry  feeling  in  Bally- 
•"•  gore  and  indeed  all  through  the  constituency  when 
Lalage  went  home.  It  was  generally  believed  that 
O'Donoghue,  Vittie,  and  I  had  somehow  driven  her  away, 
but  this  was  quite  unjust  to  us  and  we  all  three  felt  it. 
We  felt  it  particularly  when,  one  night  at  about  twelve 
o'clock,  a  large  crowd  visited  us  in  turn  and  groaned 
under  our  windows.  O'Donoghue  and  Vittie,  with  a 
view  to  ingratiating  themselves  with  the  electors,  wrote 
letters  to  the  papers  solemnly  declaring  that  they  sin- 
cerely wished  Lalage  to  return.  Nobody  believed  them. 
Lalage's  teaching  had  sunk  so  deep  into  the  popular  mind 
that  nobody  would  have  believed  anything  O'Donoghue 
and  Vittie  said  even  if  they  had  sworn  its  truth.  Tith- 
erington,  who  was  beginning  to  recover,  published  a 
counter  blast  to  their  letters.  He  was  always  quick  to 
seize  opportunities  and  he  hoped  to  increase  my  popu- 
larity by  associating  me  closely  with  Lalage.  He  said 
that  I  had  originally  brought  her  to  Ballygore  and  he 
left  it  to  be  understood  that  I  was  an  ardent  member  of 
the  Association  for  the  Suppression  of  Public  Lying.  Un- 
fortunately nobody  believed  him.  Lalage's  crusade  had 
produced  an  extraordinary  effect.  Nobody  any  longer 
believed  anything,  not  even  the  advertisements.  My 
nurse,  among  others,  became  affected  with  the  prevailing 

204 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  205 

feeling  of  scepticism  and  refused  to  accept  my  word  for  it 
that  I  was  still  seriously  ill.  Even  when  I  succeeded,  by 
placing  it  against  the  hot  water  bottle  in  the  bottom  of 
my  bed,  in  running  up  her  thermometer  to  103  degrees, 
she  merely  smiled.  And  yet  a  temperature  of  that  kind 
ought  to  have  convinced  her  that  I  really  had  violent 
pains  somewhere. 

The  election  itself  showed  unmistakably  the  popular 
hatred  of  public  lying.  There  were  just  over  four  thou- 
sand electors  in  the  division,  but  only  530  of  them  recorded 
their  votes.  A  good  many  more,  nearly  a  thousand  more, 
went  to  the  polling  booths  and  deliberately  spoiled  their 
voting  papers.  The  returning  officer,  who  kindly  came 
round  to  my  hotel  to  announce  the  result,  told  me  that 
he  had  never  seen  so  many  spoiled  votes  at  any  election. 
The  usual  way  of  invalidating  the  voting  paper  was  to 
bracket  the  three  names  and  write  "All  of  them  liars" 
across  the  paper.  Sometimes  the  word  "liars"  was 
qualified  by  a  profane  adjective.  Sometimes  distinc- 
tions were  made  between  the  candidates  and  one  of 
us  was  declared  to  be  a  more  skilful  or  determined  liar 
than  the  other  two.  O'Donoghue  was  sometimes 
placed  in  the  position  of  the  superlative  degree  of  com- 
parison. So  was  I.  But  Vittie  suffered  most  frequently 
in  this  way.  Lalage  had  always  displayed  a  special 
virulence  in  dealing  with  Vittie's  public  utterances.  The 
remaining  voters,  2470  of  them  or  thereabouts,  made  a 
silent  protest  against  our  deceitfulness  by  staying  away 
from  the  polling  booths  altogether. 

O'Donoghue  was  elected.  He  secured  262  of  the  votes 
which  were  not  spoiled.  I  ran  him  very  close,  having 


206  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

260  votes  to  my  credit.  Vittie  came  a  bad  third,  with  only 
eight  votes.  Vittie,  as  Titherington  told  me  from  the  first, 
never  had  a  chance  of  success.  He  was  only  nominated 
in  the  hope  that  he  might  take  some  votes  away  from 
me.  I  hope  his  friends  were  satisfied  with  the  result. 
Three  of  his  eight  votes  would  have  given  me  a  majority. 
Titherington  wrote  me  a  long  letter  some  time  after- 
ward, as  soon,  in  fact,  as  he  was  well  enough  to  do  sums. 
He  said  that  originally,  before  Lalage  came  on  the  scene, 
I  had  1800  firm  and  reliable  supporters,  men  who  would 
have  walked  miles  through  snowstorms  to  cast  their 
votes  for  me.  O'Donoghue  had  about  the  same  number 
who  would  have  acted  with  equal  self-denial  on  his  be- 
half. Vittie  was  tolerably  sure  of  two  hundred  voters 
and  there  were  about  two  hundred  others  who  hesitated 
between  Vittie  and  me,  but  would  rather  cut  off  their 
right  hands  than  vote  for  O'Donoghue.  I  ought, 
therefore,  to  have  been  elected,  and  I  would  have  been 
elected,  if  Lalage  had  not  turned  the  minds  of  the  voters 
away  from  serious  political  thought.  "I  do  not  know," 
Titherington  wrote  in  a  sort  of  parenthesis,  "whether 
these  women  hope  to  advance  their  cause  by  tactics  of 
this  kind.  If  they  do  they  are  making  a  bad  mistake. 
No  right-thinking  man  will  ever  consent  to  the  enfran- 
chisement of  a  sex  capable  of  treating  political  life  with 
the  levity  displayed  here  by  Miss  Beresford. "  It  is  very 
curious  how  hard  Titherington  finds  it  to  believe  that  he 
has  made  a  mistake.  He  will  probably  go  down  to  his 
grave  maintaining  that  the  letters  A.S.P.L.  stand  for 
woman's  suffrage,  although  I  pointed  out  to  him  more 
than  once  that  they  do  not. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  207 

The  latter  part  of  Titherington's  letter  was  devoted  to 
a  carefully  reasoned  explanation  of  the  actual  victory  of 
O'Donoghue.  He  accounted  for  it  in  two  ways.  O'Don- 
oghue's  supporters,  being  inferior  in  education  and 
general  intelligence  to  mine,  were  less  likely  to  be  affected 
by  new  and  heretical  doctrines  such  as  Lalage's.  A 
certain  amount  of  mental  activity  is  required  in  order  to 
go  wrong.  Also,  Lalage's  professed  admiration  for  truth 
made  its  strongest  appeal  to  my  supporters,  because 
O'Donoghue's  friends  were  naturally  addicted  to  lying 
and  loved  falsehood  for  its  own  sake.  My  side  was,  in 
fact,  beaten  —  I  have  noticed  that  this  is  the  case  in 
many  elections  —  because  it  was  intellectually  and 
morally  the  better  side.  This  theory  would  have  been 
very  consoling  to  me  if  I  had  wanted  consolation.  I  did 
not.  I  was  far  from  grudging  O'Donoghue  his  victory. 
He,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  is  just  the  man  to  enjoy  hear- 
ing other  people  make  long  speeches.  I  have  never 
developed  a  taste  for  that  form  of  amusement. 

The  day  after  the  declaration  of  the  result  of  the 
election  a  really  serious  misfortune  befell  me.  McMeekin 
himself  took  influenza.  There  was  a  time  when  I  wished 
very  much  to  hear  that  he  was  writhing  in  the  grip  of  the 
disease.  But  those  feelings  had  long  passed  away  from 
my  mind.  I  no  longer  wished  any  ill  to  McMeekin.  I 
valued  him  highly  as  a  medical  attendant,  and  I  particu- 
larly needed  his  skill  just  when  he  was  snatched  away 
from  me,  because  my  nurse  was  becoming  restive.  She 
hinted  at  first,  and  then  roundly  asserted  that  I  was 
perfectly  well.  Nothing  but  McMeekin's  determined 
diagnosis  of  obscure  affections  of  my  heart,  lungs,  and 


208  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

viscera  kept  her  to  her  duties.  She  made  more  than  one 
attempt  to  take  me  out  for  a  drive.  I  resisted  her, 
knowing  that  a  drive  would,  in  the  end,  take  me  to  the 
railway  station  and  from  that  home  to  be  embroiled  in 
the  contest  between  Lalage  and  the  Diocesan  Synod.  I 
had  a  letter  from  my  mother  urging  me  to  return  home  at 
once  and  hinting  at  the  possibility  of  unpleasantness  over 
the  election  of  the  new  bishop.  This  made  me  the  more 
determined  to  stay  where  I  was,  and  so  McMeekin's 
illness  was  a  very  serious  blow  to  me. 

I  satisfied  myself  by  inquiry  that  he  was  not  likely  to 
get  well  immediately  and  then  I  sent  for  another  doctor. 
This  man  turned  out  to  be  one  of  my  original  supporters 
and  I  think  his  feelings  must  have  been  hurt  by  my  call- 
ing in  McMeekin.  He  had  also,  I  could  see,  been  greatly 
influenced  by  Lalage.  He  told  me,  with  insulting  di- 
rectness of  speech,  that  there  was  nothing  the  matter 
with  me.  I  could  not  remember  the  names  of  the 
diseases  which  McMeekin  said  I  had  or  might  develop. 
The  nurse,  who  could  have  remembered  them  if  she  liked, 
would  not.  The  new  doctor,  an  aggressive,  red-faced 
young  man,  repeated  his  statement  that  I  was  perfectly 
well.  He  emphasized  it  by  refusing  to  take  a  fee.  My 
nurse,  with  evident  delight,  packed  her  box  and  left  by 
the  next  train.  After  that  there  was  nothing  for  me  but 
to  go  home. 

My  mother  must  have  been  disappointed  at  the  result 
of  the  East  Connor  election.  She  believed,  I  fear  she 
still  believes,  that  I  am  fitted  to  make  laws  and  would  be 
happy  in  the  work.  But  she  has  great  tact.  She  did  not, 
by  either  word  or  glance,  condole  with  me  over  my  defeat. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  209 

I  also  possess  a  little  tact,  so  I  did  not  exult  or  express 
any  gratification  in  her  presence.  We  neither  of  us 
mentioned  the  subject  of  the  election.  My  uncle  Thor- 
manby,  on  the  other  hand,  has  no  tact  at  all.  He  came 
over  to  luncheon  the  day  after  I  arrived  home.  We 
had  scarcely  sat  down  at  table  when  he  began  to  jeer. 

"Well,"  he  said,  speaking  in  his  usual  hearty  full- 
throated  way,  "better  luck  next  time." 

"I  am  not  sure,"  I  said,  with  dignified  coolness,  "that 
there  will  be  a  next  time." 

"Oh,  yes,  there  will.  'He  who  fights  and  runs 
away  will  live  to  fight  another  day."; 

I  did  not  see  how  the  proverb  applied  to  me. 

"Do  you  mean  the  influenza?"  I  said.  "That  was 
scarcely  my  fault.  My  temperature  was  104." 

"  All  the  same,"  said  Thormanby,  "  you  didn't  exactly 
stand  up  to  her,  did  you?" 

I  understood  then  that  he  was  thinking  about  La- 
lage. 

"Nor  did  O'Donoghue,"  I  said.  "And  Vittie  really 
was  shamming.  Titherington  told  me  so." 

"Influenza  or  no  influenza,  I  shouldn't  have  sat  down 
under  the  things  that  girl  was  saying  about  you. " 

"What  would  you  have  done?" 

"I  should  have  put  her  in  her  place  pretty  quick.  I'm 
sorry  I  wasn't  there." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Thormanby  had  taken  very  good 
care  not  to  be  there.  He  had  washed  his  hands  and  put 
the  whole  responsibility  on  the  shoulders  of  Miss  Bat- 
tersby  and  Miss  Pettigrew.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  bring 
this  home  to  his  conscience. 


210  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"Why  didn't  you  come?  "  I  asked.  "We'd  have  been 
very  pleased  to  see  you." 

"Peers,"  he  replied,  "are  not  allowed  to  interfere  in 
elections. " 

This,  of  course,  was  a  mere  subterfuge.  I  was  not 
inclined  to  let  Thormanby  escape. 

"You'll  have  every  opportunity,"  I  said,  "of  putting 
her  in  her  place  without  running  your  head  against  the 
British  constitution.  She  means  to  take  an  active  part 
in  electing  the  new  bishop. " 

"Nonsense.  There's  no  part  for  her  to  take.  That's 
a  matter  for  the  synod  of  the  diocese  and  she  won't 
be  allowed  into  its  meetings." 

"All  the  same  she'll  manage  to  get  in.  But  of  course 
that  won't  matter.  You'll  put  her  in  her  place  pretty 
quick. " 

Thonnanby's  tone  was  distinctly  less  confident  when 
he  next  spoke. 

"Do  you  happen  to  know,"  he  asked,  "what  she  means 
to  do?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Could  you  possibly  find  out?  She  might  tell  you  if 
you  asked  her. " 

"I  don't  intend  to  ask  her.  I  have  washed  my  hands 
of  the  whole  affair. " 

My  mother  came  into  the  conversation  at  this  point. 

"Lalage  hasn't  confided  in  me,"  she  said,  "but  she  has 
told  Miss  Battersby " 


"Ah!"  I  said,  "Miss  Battersby  is  so  wonderfully  sym- 
pathetic.    Anybody  would  confide  in  her." 

"She   told   Miss   Battersby,"   my   mother   went   on, 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  211 

"that  she  was  studying  the  situation  and  looking  into 
the  law  of  the  matter. " 

"Let  her  stick  to  that,"  said  Thormanby. 

"Are  Hilda  and  Selby-Harrison  down  here?"  I  asked. 

"Hilda  is,"  said  my  mother.  "I  don't  know  about 
the  other.  Who  is  he  or  she?" 

"He,"  I  said,  "is  the  third  member  of  the  committee 
of  the  Episcopal  Election  Guild.  He's  particularly  good 
at  drawing  up  agreements.  I  expect  the  Archdeacon 
will  have  to  sign  one.  By  the  way,  I  suppose  he's  the 
proper  man  to  vote  for?" 

"I'm  supporting  him,"  said  Thormanby,  "so  I  suppose 
you  will."  I  do  not  like  being  hustled  in  this  way.  "I 
shall  study  the  situation,"  I  said,  "before  I  make  up  my 
mind.  I  am  a  life  member  of  the  Episcopal  Election 
Guild  and  I  must  allow  myself  to  be  guided  to  some 
extent  by  the  decision  of  the  committee. " 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  Thormanby,  "that 
you've  given  that  girl  money  again?  " 

"Not  again.  My  original  subscription  carries  me  on 
from  one  society  to  another.  Selby-Harrison  arranged 
about  that. " 

"I  should  have  thought,"  said  Thormanby  sulkily, 
"that  you'd  had  warnings  enough.  You  will  never  learn 
sense  even  if  you  live  to  be  a  hundred. " 

I  saw  the  Archdeacon  next  day.  He  tackled  the  sub- 
ject of  my  defeat  in  East  Connor  without  hesitation.  He 
has  even  less  tact  than  Thormanby. 

"I'm  sorry  for  you,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said,  wringing 
my  hand,  "more  sorry  than  I  can  tell  you.  These  dis- 
appointments are  very  hard  to  bear  at  your  age.  When 


212  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

you  are  as  old  as  I  am  and  know  how  many  of  them  life 
has  in  store  for  all  of  us,  you  will  not  feel  them  nearly  so 
acutely. " 

"I'm  trying  to  bear  up,"  I  said. 

"Your  defeat  is  a  public  loss.  I  feel  that  very  strongly. 
After  your  diplomatic  experience  and  with  your  knowledge 
of  foreign  affairs  your  advice  would  have  been  invaluable 
in  all  questions  of  imperial  policy. " 

"I'm  greatly  gratified  to  hear  you  say  that.  I  was 
afraid  you  thought  I  had  taken  to  drink." 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  the  Archdeacon  with  pained 
surprise,  "what  can  have  put  such  an  idea  into  your 
head?" 

"I  couldn't  help  knowing  what  was  in  your  mind  that 
day  in  Dublin  when  I  spoke  to  you  about  Lalage's  Jun. 
Soph.  Ord." 

I  could  see  that  the  Archdeacon  was  uncomfortable. 
He  had  certainly  entertained  suspicions  when  we  parted 
in  St.  Stephen's  Green,  though  he  might  now  pretend  to 
have  forgotten  them. 

"You  thought  so  then,"  I  went  on,  "though  it  was  quite 
early  in  the  day. " 

"Not  at  all.  I  happened  to  be  in  a  hurry.  That  is 
all.  I  knew  perfectly  well  it  was  only  your  manner." 

"I  don't  blame  you  in  the  least.  Anybody  might  have 
thought  just  as  you  did. " 

"But  IJdidn't.  I  knew  you  were  upset  at  the  time. 
You  were  anxious  about  Lalage  Beresford.  She's  a  charm- 
ing girl,  with  a  very  good  heart,  but ' 

The  Archdeacon  hesitated. 

"But "  I  said,  encouraging  him  to  go  on. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  213 

"Did  you  hear,"  he  said,  anxiously,  "that  she  intends 
to  take  part  in  the  episcopal  election?  A  rumour  to  that 
effect  has  reached  me. " 

"I  have  it  on  the  best  authority  that  she  does. " 

"Tut,  tut, "  said  the  Archdeacon.  "Do  you  tell  me  so? 
Tut,  tut.  But  that  is  quite  impossible  and  most  un- 
desirable, for  her  own  sake  most  undesirable." 

"We're  all  relying  on  you  to  prevent  scandal." 

"Your  uncle,  Lord  Thormanby " 

"He'll  put  her  in  her  place.  He's  promised  to  do  so. 
And  that  will  be  all  right  as  far  as  it  goes.  But  the 
question  is  will  she  stay  there.  That's  where  you  come 
in,  Archdeacon.  Once  she's  in  her  place  it  will  be  your 
business,  as  Archdeacon,  to  keep  her  there." 

"I'll  speak  to  her  father  about  it, "  said  the  Archdeacon. 
"Beresford  must  put  his  foot  down." 

"He's  going  to  Brazil.     He  told  me  so." 

"We  can't  have  that.  He  must  stay  here.  It's 
perfectly  impossible  for  him  to  leave  the  country  at 
present.  I'll  see  him  this  evening." 

I  told  my  mother  that  night  that  I  had  studied  the 
situation  long  enough  and  was  fully  determined  to  cast 
my  vote  for  the  Archdeacon. 

"He  is  thoroughly  well  fitted  to  be  a  bishop,"  I  said. 
"He  told  me  to-day  that  my  knowledge  of  foreign  affairs 
would  be  most  valuable  to  the  government  whenever 
questions  of  imperial  policy  turned  up." 

My  mother  seemed  a  little  puzzled. 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  the  bishopric?"  she 
asked. 

"The  remark,"  I  said,  "shows  me  the  kind  of  man 


214  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

the  Archdeacon  is.  No  one  who  was  not  full  o"!  suave 
dignity  and  sympathetic  diplomacy  could  have  said 
a  thing  like  that.  What  more  do  you  want  in  a  bishop?" 

"A  great  deal  more,"  said  my  mother,  who  takes  these 
church  questions  seriously. 

"He  also  undertook,"  I  said,  "to  keep  Lalage  in  her 
place  once  she  is  put  there." 

"If  he  does  that  - 

"I  quite  agree  with  you.  If  he  does  that  he  ought  to 
be  a  bishop,  or  a  Metropolitan,  if  not  a  Patriarch.  That's 
why  I'm  going  to  vote  for  him. " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MOTHER  appeared  to  think  that  I  had  grown 
lazy  since  I  recovered  from  my  attack  of  influenza. 
She  continually  pressed  me  to  take  exercise  and  invented 
a  hundred  different  excuses  for  getting  me  out  of  doors. 
When  I  saw  that  her  heart  was  really  set  on  seeing  me 
walk  I  did  what  I  could  to  gratify  her.  I  promised  to 
go  over  to  the  rectory  after  luncheon  on  the  very  next 
fine  day.  There  seemed  no  prospect  of  a  fine  day  for  at 
least  a  month,  and  so  I  felt  tolerably  safe  in  making  the 
promise.  But  there  is  nothing  so  unreliable  as  weather, 
especially  Irish  weather.  I  had  no  sooner  made  my  prom- 
ise than  the  clouds  began  to  break.  At  twelve  o'clock 
it  stopped  raining.  At  one  the  sun  was  shining  with 
provoking  brilliancy.  I  tried  to  ignore  the  change 
and  at  luncheon  complained  bitterly  of  the  cold.  My 
mother,  by  way  of  reply,  remarked  on  the  cheerful 
brightness  of  the  sunshine.  She  did  not,  in  so  many 
words,  ask  me  to  redeem  my  promise,  but  I  knew  what 
was  in  her  mind. 

"All  right,"  I  said,   "I'm  going.      I  shall  put  on  a 
pair  of  thick  boots.       I  should  prefer  driving,  but  of 

course " 

"Walking  will  be  much  better  for  you." 
"That's  just  what  I  was  going  to  say.     I  shall  run  a 
certain  amount  of  risk,  of  course.     I  may  drop  down 

215 


216  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

exhausted.  I  am  still  very  weak;  weaker  than  I  look. 
Or  I  may  get  overheated.  Or  I  may  get  too  cold." 

My  mother,  curiously  enough,  for  she  was  very  fond 
of  me,  did  not  seem  frightened. 

"McMeekin  told  me,"  I  went  on,  "that  a  relapse 
after  influenza  is  nearly  always  fatal.  However,  I  have 
made  my  will  and  I  fully  intend  to  walk." 

I  did  walk  as  far  as  the  gate  lodge  and  about  a  hundred 
yards  beyond  it.  It  was  not  in  any  way  my  fault  that 
,1  got  no  farther.  I  was  actually  beginning  to  like 
walking  and  should  certainly  have  gone  on  if  Lalr.ge  had 
not  stopped  me.  She  and  Hilda  were  in  the  Canon's 
pony  trap,  driving  furiously.  Lalage  held  the  reins. 
Hilda  clung  with  both  hands  to  the  side  of  the  trap. 
The  pony  was  galloping  hard  and  foaming  at  the  mouth. 
I  stepped  aside  when  I  saw  them  coming  and  climbed 
more  than  halfway  up  a  large  wooden  gate  which  hap- 
pened to  be  near  me  at  the  time.  The  road  was  very 
muddy  and  I  did  not  want  to  be  splashed  from  head  to 
foot.  Besides,  there  was  a  risk  of  being  run  over.  When 
Lalage  caught  sight  of  me  she  pulled  up  the  pony  with 
a  jerk. 

"We  were  just  going  to  see  you,"  she  said.  "It's 
great  luck  catching  you  like  this.  What's  simony?" 

I  climbed  down  from  the  gate,  slowly,  so  as  to  get  time 
to  think.  The  question  surprised  me  and  I  was  not 
prepared  to  give,  offhand,  a  definition  of  simony. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said  at  last,  "but  I  think,  in  fact 
I'm  nearly  sure,  that  it  is  some  kind  of  ecclesiastical 
offence,  perhaps  a  heresy.  Were  you  coming  to  see  me 
in  order  to  find  out?" 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  217 

"Yes.  That's  the  reason  we  were  in  such  a  terrific 
hurry." 

"Quite  so,"  I  said.  "I  was  a  little  surprised  at  first 
to  see  you  galloping,  but  now  I  understand. " 

"Would  it,"  said  Lalage,  "be  simony  to  cheek  an 
Archdeacon?" 

"It  might.  It  very  well  might.  Is  that  what  you've 
done,  Hilda?" 

"I  didn't,  "said  Hilda. 

"You  did,  just  as  much  as  me,"  said  Lalage,  "and  it 
was  to  you  he  said  it,  so  he  evidently  meant  you.  Not 
that  either  of  us  did  cheek  him  really. " 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  your  father?"  I  said.  "He's 
a  Canon  and  he'd  be  almost  sure  to  know. " 

"I  didn't  like  to  speak  to  him  about  it  until  I  knew 
what  it  was.  It  might  turn  out  to  be  something  that  I 
wouldn't  care  to  talk  to  him  about,  something  —  you 
know  the  kind  of  thing  I  mean." 

"Improper?" 

"Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  but  the  same  sort." 

"Risque?  But  surely  the  Archdeacon  wouldn't  say 
anything  the  least ' 

"You  never  know,"  said  Lalage. 

"And  if  it  had  been  that  Hilda  would  never  have  done 
it." 

"I  didn't,  "said  Hilda. 

"Of  course  if  it's  nothing  worse  than  ordinary  cheek," 
said  Lalage,  "I  shouldn't  have  minded  talking  to  father 
about  it  in  the  least.  But  I  don't  see  how  it  could  be 
that,  for  we  didn't  cheek  him.  Did  we,  Hilda?" 

"I  didn't,  "said  Hilda. 


218  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"If  there'd  been  anything  of  the  other  sort  about  it  — 
and  it  sounds  rather  like  that,  doesn't  it?" 

"Very,"  I  said;  "but  you  can't  trust  sounds." 

"Anyhow,  we  thought  it  safer  to  come  to  you,"  said 
Lalage. 

"That  was  nice  of  you  both." 

"I  don't  see  anything  nice  about  it 'one  way  or  the 
other,"  said  Lalage.  "We  simply  thought  that  if  it 
was  anything  —  anything  not  quite  ladylike,  you'd 
be  sure  to  know  all  about  it." 

I  do  not  know  why  Lalage  should  saddle  me  with  a 
reputation  of  this  kind.  I  have  never  done  anything  to 
deserve  it.  My  feelings  were  hurt. 

"As  it  turns  out  not  to  be  improper,"  I  said,  "there's 
no  use  coming  to  me. " 

I  spoke  severely,  in  cold  tones,  with  great  stiffness  of 
manner.  Lalage  was  not  in  the  least  snubbed. 

"Have  you  any  book  in  the  house  that  would  tell  you? " 
she  asked. 

"I  have  a  dictionary." 

"Stupid  of  me,"  said  Lalage,  "not  to  have  thought  of 
a  dictionary,  and  frightfully  stupid  of  you,  Hilda.  You 
ought  to  have  thought  of  it.  You  were  always  fonder 
of  dictionaries  than  I  was.  There  are  two  or  three  of  them 
in  the  rectory.  We  might  have  gone  straight  there  and 
looked  it  out.  We'll  go  now. " 

"If  it's  a  really  pressing  matter,"  I  said,  "you'll  save 
a  few  minutes  by  coming  back  with  me.  You're  fully 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  rectory  this  minute. " 

"Right,"  said  Lalage.  "Let  down  the  back  of  the 
trap  and  hop  up.  We'll  drive  you. " 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  219 

I  let  down  the  seat  and  then  hopped.  I  hopped  quite 
a  long  way  before  I  succeeded  in  getting  up.  For  Lalage 
started  before  I  was  nearly  ready  and  urged  the  pony  to 
a  gallop  at  once.  When  we  reached  the  house  I  sent 
the  unfortunate  animal  round  to  the  stable  yard,  with 
orders  that  he  was  to  be  carefully  rubbed  down  and  then 
walked  about  until  he  was  cool.  Lalage,  followed  by 
Hilda  and  afterward  by  me,  went  into  the  library. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "trot  out  your  best  diction- 
ary." 

I  collected  five,  one  of  them  an  immense  work  in  four 
volumes,  and  laid  them  in  a  row  on  the  table. 

"Hilda,"  said  Lalage,  "look  it  out." 

Hilda  chose  the  largest  dictionary  and  after  a  short 
hesitation  picked  up  the  volume  labelled  "Jab  to  Sli." 
She  stared  at  the  word  without  speaking  for  some  time 
after  she  found  it.  Lalage  and  I  looked  over  her  shoulder 
and,  when  we  saw  the  definition,  stared  too.  It  was 
Lalage  who  read  it  out  in  the  end: 

"Simony  from  Simon  Magus,  Acts  VIII.  The  crime 
of  buying  or  selling  ecclesiastical  preferment  or  the 
corrupt  presentation  of  any  one  to  an  ecclesiastical  bene- 
fice for  money  or  reward." 

i 

I  own  that  I  was  puzzled.  Lalage  is  a  person  of  great 
originality  and  daring,  but  I  did  not  see  how  even  she 
could  possibly  have  committed  simony.  She  and  Hilda 
looked  at  each  other.  There  was  an  expression  of  genuine 
astonishment  on  their  faces. 

"Do  you  think,"  said  Lalage  at  last,  "that  the  Arch- 


220  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

deacon  could  by  any  chance  have  gone  suddenly  dotty 
in  the  head?" 

"He  was  quite  sane  the  day  before  yesterday,"  I  said. 
"I  was  talking  to  him." 

"Well,  then,  I  don't  understand  it.  Whatever  else 
we  did  we  didn't  do  that  or  anything  like  it.  Did  we, 
Hilda?" 

"I  didn't,"  said  Hilda,  who  seemed  as  unwilling  as 
ever  to  answer  for  Lalage. 

"For  one  thing,"  said  Lalage,  "we  hadn't  got  any 
ecclesiastical  preferments  to  sell  and  we  hadn't  any  money 
to  buy  them,  so  we  couldn't  have  simonied  even  if  we'd 
wanted  to.  But  he  certainly  said  we  had.  Just  tell 
exactly  what  he  did  say,  Hilda.  It  was  to  you  he  said 
it." 

Hilda,  with  a  very  fair  imitation  of  the  Archdeacon's 
manner,  repeated  his  words: 

"'Young  lady,  are  you  aware  that  this  is  the  sin  of 
simony  ?": 

I  took  the  dictionary  in  my  hand. 

"There's  a  bit  more,"  I  said,  "that  you  didn't  read. 
Perhaps  there  is  some  secondary  meaning  in  the  word. 
I'll  go  on:  'By  stat:  31  Elizabeth  C.  VII.  Severe 
penalties  are  enacted  against  this  crime.  In  the  church 

of  Scotland  simonaical  practices '  Well,  we're 

not  in  Scotland  anyhow,  so  we  needn't  go  into  that. 
I  wonder  if  stat:  31  Elizabeth  C.  VII  runs  in  this  country. 
Some  don't;  but  it  sounds  to  me  rather  as  if  it  would. 
If  it  does,  you're  in  a  nasty  fix,  Lalage;  you  and  Hilda. 
Several  penalties  can  hardly  mean  less  than  imprison- 
ment with  hard  labour. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  221 

"But  we  didn't  do  it,"  said  Lalage. 

"The  Archdeacon  appears  to  think  you  did,"  I  said, 
"both  of  you,  especially  Hilda.  You  must  have  done 
something.  You'd  better  tell  me  exactly  what  occurred 
from  the  beginning  of  the  interview  until  the  end.  I'll 
try  and  pick  out  what  struck  the  Archdeacon  as  simonai- 
cal.  I  don't  want  to  see  either  of  you  run  in  for  severe 
penalties  if  we  can  help  it.  I  expect  the  best  thing  will 
be  to  repent  and  apologize  at  once." 

"Repent  of  what?"  said  Lalage. 

"That's  what  I  want  to  find  out.  Begin  at  the  be- 
ginning now  and  give  me  the  whole  story. " 

"We  drove  over  this  morning,"  said  Lalage,  "to  see 
the  Archdeacon.  I  didn't  want  to  go  a  bit,  for  the  Arch- 
deacon is  particularly  horrid  when  he's  nice,  as  he  is  just 
at  present.  But  Selby-Harrison  said  we  ought." 

"Is  Selby-Harrison  here?" 

"No.  He  wrote  from  Dublin.  He's  been  looking 
up  the  subject  of  bishops  in  the  college  library  so  that 
we'd  know  exactly  what  we  ought  to  do." 

"He  should  have  looked  up  simony  first  thing.  I  can't 
forgive  Selby-Harrison  for  letting  you  in  for  those  severe 
penalties. " 

"There  wasn't  a  bit  of  harm  in  what  he  said.  It  was 
nearly  all  out  of  the  Bible  and  the  ancient  Fathers  of  the 
Church  and  Councils  and  things.  It  couldn't  have  been 
simony.  You  have  his  letter,  haven't  you,  Hilda?  Read 
it  out." 

Hilda  opened  the  small  bag  she  always  carries  and  took 
out  the  letter.  It  looked  to  me  a  very  long  one. 

"I   don't    know,"     I   said,    "that     Selby-Harrison's 


222  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

letter  really  matters  unless  you  read  it  out  to  the 
Archdeacon. " 

"We  didn't  get  the  chance,"  said  Lalage,  "although 
we  meant  to." 

"Then  you  needn't  read  it  to  me. " 

"We  must.  Otherwise  you  won't  know  why  we  went 
to  see  the  Archdeacon. " 

"Couldn't  you  give  me  in  a  few  words  a  general  idea 
of  the  contents  of  the  letter?  " 

"You  do  that,  Hilda,"  said  Lalage. 

"It  was  nothing,"  said  Hilda,  "but  a  list  of  the  things 
a  bishop  ought  to  be. " 

"Qualifications  for  the  office,"  said  Lalage. 

"And  you  went  over  to  the  Archdeacon  to  find  out 
whether  he  came  up  to  the  standard.  I'm  beginning  to 
understand. " 

"I  thought  at  the  time,"  said  Hilda,  "that  it  was 
rather  cheek." 

"It  was,"  I  said,  "but  it  doesn't  seem  to  me,  so  far, 
to  amount  to  actual  simony. " 

"It  was  a  perfectly  natural  and  straightforward  thing 
to  do,"  said  Lalage.  "How  could  we  possibly  support 
the  Archdeacon  in  the  election  unless  we'd  satisfied 
ourselves  that  he  had  the  proper  qualifications?" 

"Anyhow,"  I  said,  "whether  the  Archdeacon  mistook 
it  for  cheek  or  not  —  and  I  can  quite  understand  that  he 
might  —  it  wasn't  simony. " 

"That's  just  what  bothers  us,"  said  Lalage.  "Do 
you  think  that  dictionary  of  yours  could  possibly  be 
wrong?" 

"  It  might,"  I  said.     "  Let's  try  another." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  223 

Hilda  tried  three  others.  The  wording  of  their  def- 
initions varied,  but  they  were  all  in  substantial  agree- 
ment with  the  first. 

"There  must,"  I  said,  "have  been  something  in  the 
questions  which  you  put  to  the  Archdeacon  which  sug- 
gested simony  to  his  mind.  What  did  you  ask  him?" 

"  I  didn't  ask  him  anything.  I  intended  to  but  I  hadn't 
time.  He  was  on  top  of  us  with  his  old  simony  before 
I  opened  my  mouth. " 

"You  did  say  one  thing,"  said  Hilda. 

"Then  that  must  have  been  it,"  I  said. 

"It  wasn't  in  the  least  simonious,"  said  Lalage.  "In 
fact  it  wasn't  anything  at  all.  It  was  merely  a  polite 
way  of  beginning  the  conversation." 

"All  the  same,"  I  said.  "It  was  simony.  It  must 
have  been,  for  there  was  nothing  else.  What  was  it?" 

"It  wasn't  of  any  importance,"  said  Lalage.  "I 
simply  said  —  just  in  the  way  you  might  say  you  hoped 
his  cold  was  better  without  meaning  anything  in  par- 
ticular —  that  I  supposed  if  he  was  elected  bishop  he'd 
make  father  archdeacon. " 

"Ah!"  I  said. 

"He  flew  out  at  that  straight  away.  Rather  ridiculous 
of  him,  wasn't  it?  He  can't  be  both  bishop  and  arch- 
deacon, so  he  needn't  try.  He  must  give  up  the  second 
job  to  some  one  or  other.  I'd  have  thought  he'd  have 
seen  that  at  once." 

I  referred  to  the  dictionary. 

"'Or  the  corrupt  presentation  of  any  one  to  an  ec- 
celesiastical  benefice  for  money  or  reward.'  That's  where  he 
has  you,  Lalage.  You  were  offering  to  present  him " 


224  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"I  wasn't.      How  could  I? " 

"He  thought  you  were,  any  how,  And  the  reward  in 
this  case  evidently  was  that  your  father  should  be  made 
into  an  archdeacon. " 

"That's  the  greatest  nonsense  I  ever  heard.  It  wouldn't 
be  a  reward.  Father  would  simply  hate  it." 

"The  Archdeacon  couldn't  be  expected  to  understand 
that.  Having  held  the  office  for  so  long  himself  he 
naturally  regards  it  as  highly  desirable." 

"What  about  the  penalties?"  said  Hilda  nervously. 

"By  far  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  I  said,  "is  to 
grovel  profusely.  If  you  both  cast  ashes  on  your  heads 
and  let  the  tears  run  down  your  cheeks ' 

"If  the  Archdeacon  is  such  a  fool  as  you're  trying  to 
make  out,"  said  Lalage,  "I  shall  simply  write  to  him  and 
say  that  nothing  on  earth  would  induce  me  to  allow  my 
father  to  parade  the  country  dressed  up  in  an  apron  and  a 
pair  of  tight  black  gaiters. " 

"If  you  say  things  like  that  to  him,"  I  said,  "he'll 
exact  the  penalties.  See  stat:  31  Elizabeth  C.  VII. 
You  may  not  mind,  but  Hilda's  mother  will. " 

"Yes,"  said  Hilda,  "she'll  be  frightfully  angry." 

At  this  moment  my  mother  came  into  the  library. 

"Thank  goodness,"  said  Lalage,  "we  have  some  one 
at  last  who  can  talk  sense. " 

My  mother  looked  questioningly  at  me.  I  offered  her 
an  explanation  of  the  position  in  the  smallest  possible 
number  of  words. 

"The  Archdeacon,"  I  said,  "is  going  to  put  Lalage 
and  Hilda  into  prison  for  simony. " 

"He  can't,"  said  Lalage,  "for  we  didn't  do  it." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  225 

"They  did,"  I  said,  "both  of  them.  They  offered 
to  present  the  Archdeacon  corruptly  to  an  ecclesiastical 
benefice  for  a  reward." 

"It  wasn't  a  reward." 

"Lalage,"  said  my  mother,  "have  you  been  meddling 
with  this  bishopric  election?" 

"I  simply  tried,"  said  Lalage,  "to  find  out  whether 
he  was  properly  qualified. " 

"You  did  more  than  that,"  I  said;  "you  tried  to  get 
a  reward. " 

"If  you  take  my  advice "  said  my  mother. 

"I  will,"  said  Lalage,  "and  so  will  Hilda." 

That  threatening  statute  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  must 
have  frightened  Lalage.  I  never  before  knew  her  so 
meek. 

"Then  leave  the  question  of  the  Archdeacon's  quali- 
fications," said  my  mother,  "to  those  who  have  to  elect 
him." 

"Not  to  me,"  I  said  hurriedly.  "I  couldn't  work 
through  that  list  of  Selby-Harrison's.  Try  my  uncle. 
Try  Lord  Thormanby.  He'll  like  it. " 

"There's  one  thing "  said  Lalage. 

"Leave  it  to  the  synod,"  said  my  mother. 

"Or  to  Lord  Thormanby,"  I  said. 

"Very  well,"  said  Lalage.  "I  will.  But  perhaps  he 
won't  care  to  go  into  it,  and  if  he  doesn't  I  shall  have  to 
act  myself. " 

"He  will,"  I  said.  "He  has  a  perfectly  tremendous 
sense  of  responsibility." 

"And  now,"  said  my  mother,  "come  along,  all  of  you, 
to  the  drawing-room  and  have  tea." 


226  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"Is  it  all  right?"  said  Hilda  anxiously  to  me  as  we  left 
the  room. 

"Quite,"  I  said;  "there'll  be  no  prosecution.  My 
mother  can  do  anything  she  likes  with  the  Archdeacon, 
just  as  she  does  with  Lalage.  He'll  not  enforce  a  single 
penalty. " 

"She's  wonderful,"  said  Hilda. 

I  quite  agreed.  She  is.  Even  Miss  Pettigrew  could 
not  do  as  much.  It  was  more  by  good  luck  than  any- 
thing else  that  she  succeeded  in  luring  Lalage  away  from 
Ballygore. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

I  CONGRATULATED  my  mother  that  night  on  her 
success  in  dealing  with  Lalage. 

"Your  combination,"  I  said,  "of  tact,  firmness, 
sympathy,  and  reasonableness  was  most  masterly." 

My  mother  smiled  gently.  I  somehow  gathered  from 
her  way  of  smiling  that  she  thought  my  congratulations 
premature. 

"Surely,"  I  said,  "you  don't  think  she'll  break  out 
again.  She  made  you  a  definite  promise." 

"She'll  keep  her  promise  to  the  letter,"  said  my  mother, 
still  smiling  in  the  same  way. 

"If  she  does,"  I  said,  "she  can't  do  anything  very 
bad." 

It  turned  out  —  it  always  does  —  that  my  mother 
was  right  and  I  was  wrong.  The  next  morning  at  break- 
fast a  note  was  handed  to  me  by  the  footman.  He  said 
it  had  been  brought  over  from  Thormanby  Park  by  a 
groom  on  horseback.  It  was  marked  "Urgent"  in 
red  ink. 

Thormanby  acts  at  times  in  a  violent  and  impulsive 
manner.  If  I  were  his  uncle,  and  so  qualified  by  re- 
lationship to  give  him  the  advice  he  frequently  gives  me, 
I  should  recommend  him  to  cultivate  repose  of  manner 
and  leisurely  dignity  of  action.  He  is  a  peer  of  this 
realm,  and  has,  besides,  been  selected  by  his  fellow  peers 

227 


228  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

to  represent  them  in  the  House  of  Lords.  He  ought 
not  to  send  grooms  scouring  the  country  at  breakfast 
time,  carrying  letters  which  look,  on  the  outside,  as  if 
they  announced  the  discovery  of  dangerous  conspiracies. 
I  said  this  and  more  to  my  mother  before  opening  the 
envelope,  and  she  seemed  to  agree  with  me  that  the 
political  and  social  decay  of  our  aristocracy  is  to  some 
extent  to  be  traced  to  their  excitability  and  lack  of  self- 
control.  By  way  of  demonstrating  my  own  calm,  I 
laid  the  envelope  down  beside  my  plate  and  refrained 
from  opening  it  until  I  had  finished  the  kidney  I  was 
eating  at  the  time.  The  letter,  when  I  did  read  it,  turned 
out  to  be  quite  as  hysterical  as  the  manner  of  its  arrival. 
Thormanby  summoned  me  to  his  presence  —  there  is 
no  other  way  of  describing  the  style  in  which  he  wrote 
—  and  ordered  me  to  start  immediately. 

"I  can't  imagine  what  has  gone  wrong,"  I  said.  "Do 
you  think  that  Miss  Battersby  can  have  gone  suddenly 
mad  and  assaulted  one  of  the  girls  with  a  battle 
axe?" 

"It  is  far  more  likely  that  Lalage  has  done  something," 
said  my  mother. 

"After  her  promise  to  you  what  could  she  have  done?" 

"She  might  have  kept  it." 

I  thought  this  over  and  got  a  grip  on  the  meaning 
by  degrees. 

"You  mean,"  I  said,  "that  she  has  appealed  to  my 
uncle  on  some  point   about   the   Archdeacon's    qualifi 
cations." 

"Exactly." 

"But  that  wouldn't  upset  him  so  much." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  229 

"It  depends  on  what  the  point  is." 

"She's  extraordinarily  ingenious,"  I  said.  "Perhaps 
I'd  better  go  over  to  Thormanby  Park  and  see." 

"Finish  your  breakfast,"  said  my  mother.  "I'll 
order  the  trap  for  you." 

I  arrived  at  Thormanby  Park  shortly  after  ten  o'clock. 
The  door  was  opened  to  me  by  Miss  Battersby.  She 
confessed  that  she  had  been  watching  for  me  from  the 
window  of  the  morning  room  which  looks  out  over  the 
drive.  She  squeezed  my  hand  when  greeting  me  and 
held  it  so  long  that  I  was  sure  she  was  suffering  from 
some  acute  anxiety.  She  also  spoke  breathlessly,  in 
a  sort  of  gasping  whisper,  as  if  she  had  been  running 
hard.  She  had  not,  of  course,  run  at  all.  The  gasps 
were  due  to  excitement  and  agony. 

"I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  she  said.  "I  knew  you 
would.  Lord  Thormanby  is  waiting  for  you  in  the 
library.  I  do  hope  you  won't  say  anything  to  make  it 
worse.  You'll  try  not  to,  won't  you?" 

I  gathered  from  this  that  it,  whatever  it  was,  must 
be  very  bad  already. 

"Lalage?"    I    said. 

Miss  Battersby   nodded  solemnly. 

"My  mother  told  me  it  must  be  that,  before  I 
started." 

"If  you  could,"  said  Miss  Battersby  persuasively, 
"and  if  you  would " 

"I  can  and  will,"  I  said.     "What  is  it?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  poor 
little  Lalage  bearing  all  the  blame." 

"I  can't  well  take  the  blame,"  I  said,  "although  I'm 


230  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

perfectly  willing  to  do  so,  unless  I  can  find  out  what  it 
is  she's  done." 

"I  don't  know.  I  wish  I  did.  There  was  a  letter 
from  her  this  morning  to  Lord  Thormanby,  but  he  didn't 
show  it  to  me." 

"If  it's  in  her  handwriting,"  I  said,  "there's  no  use 
my  saying  I  wrote  it.  He  wouldn't  believe  me.  But 
if  it's  typewritten  and  not  signed,  I'll  say  it's  mine." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  ask  you  to  do  so  much  as  that. 
Besides,  it  wouldn't  be  true." 

"It  won't  be  true  in  any  case,"  I  said,  "if  I  take  even 
part  of  the  blame." 

"But  you  mustn't  say  what  isn't  true." 

Miss  Battersby  is  unreasonable,  though  she  means 
well.  It  is  clearly  impossible  for  me  to  be  strictly  truth- 
ful and  at  the  same  time  to  claim,  as  my  own,  misdeeds 
of  which  I  do  not  even  know  the  nature.  I  walked  across 
the  hall  in  the  direction  of  the  library  door.  Miss 
Battersby  followed  me  with  her  hand  on  my  arm. 

"Do  your  best  for  her,"  she  whispered  pleadingly. 

Thormanby  was  certainly  in  a  very  bad  temper.  He 
was  sitting  at  the  far  side  of  a  large  writing  table  when  I 
entered  the  room.  He  did  not  rise  or  shake  hands  with 
me.  He  simply  pushed  a  letter  across  the  table  toward 
me  with  the  end  of  a  paper  knife.  His  action  gave  me 
the  impression  that  the  letter  was  highly  infectious. 

"Look  at  that,"  he  said. 

I  looked  and  saw  at  once  that  it  was  in  Lalage's  hand- 
writing. I  was  obliged  to  give  up  the  idea  of  claiming 
it  as  mine. 

"Why  don't  you  read  it?"  said  Thormanby. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  231 

"I  didn't  know  you  wanted  me  to.     Do  you?" 

"How  the  deuce  are  you  to  know  what's  in  it  if  you 
don't  read  it?" 

"It's   quite  safe,   I   suppose?" 

"Safe?     Safe?     What  do  you  mean?" 

"When  I  saw  you  poking  at  it  with  that  paper  knife 
I  thought  it  might  be  poisoned." 

Thormanby  growled  and  I  took  up  the  letter.  Lalage 
has  a  courteous  but  perfectly  lucid  style.  I  read: 

"Dear  Lord  Thormanby,  as  a  member  of  the  Di- 
ocesan Synod  you  are,  I  feel  sure,  quite  as  anxious  as 
I  am  that  only  a  really  suitable  man  should  be  elected 
bishop.  I  therefore  enclose  a  carefully  drawn  list  of 
the  necessary  and  desirable  qualifications  for  that  office." 

"You  have  the  list?"  I  said. 

"Yes.  She  sent  the  thing.  She  has  cheek  enough 
for  anything." 

"  Selby-Harrison  drew  it  up,  so  if  there's  anything 
objectionable  in  it  he's  the  person  you  ought  to  blame, 
not  Lalage." 

I  felt  that  I  was  keeping  my  promise  to  Miss  Battersby. 
I  had  succeeded  in  implicating  another  culprit.  Not 
more  than  half  the  blame  was  now  Lalage's. 

"The  sine  qua  nons"  the  letter  went  on,  "are  marked 
with  red  crosses,  the  desiderata  in  black." 

"I'm  glad,"  I  said,  "that  she  got  one  plural  right. 
By  the  way,  I  wonder  what  the  plural  of  that  phrase  really 
is.  It  can't  be  sines  qua  non,  and  yet  sine  quibus  sounds 
pedantic." 

I  said  this  in  the  hope  of  mitigating  Thormanby 's 
wrath  by  turning  his  thoughts  into  another  channel. 


232  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

I  failed.     He  merely  growled  again.     I  went  on  reading 
the  letter: 

"You  will  observe  at  once  that  the  Archdeacon,  whom 
we  should  all  like  to  have  as  our  new  bishop,  possesses 
every  requirement  for  the  office  except  one,  number  fifteen 
on  the  enclosed  list,  marked  for  convenience  of  reference, 
with  a  violet  asterisk." 

"What  is  the  missing  sine  qua?"  I  asked.  "Don't 
tell  me  if  it's  private." 

"It's  —  it's  —  damn  it  all,  look  for  yourself." 
He  flung  a  typewritten  sheet  of  foolscap  at  me.     I 
picked  my  way  carefully    among  the  red    and    black 
crosses  until  I  came  to  the  violet  asterisk." 

"No.  15.  *A  bishop  must  be  the  husband  of  one 
wife'  -I  Tim:  III." 

"That's  rather  a  poser,"  I  said,  "if  true.  It  seems  to 
me  to  put  the  Archdeacon  out  of  the  running  straight  off." 

"No.  It  doesn't,"  said  Thormanby.  "That's  where 
the  girl's  infernal  insolence  comes  in." 

I  read: 

"This  obstacle,  though  under  the  present  circumstances 
an  absolute  bar,  is  fortunately  remedial." 

"I  wish  Lalage  would  be  more  careful,"  I  said,  "she 
ought  to  have  written  'remediable.'  However  her  mean- 
ing is  quite  plain." 

"It  gets  plainer  further  on,"  said  Thormanby  grinning. 

This  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  him  grin  since  I  came 
into  the  room.  I  took  it  for  an  encouraging  sign. 

Lalage's  letter  went  on: 

"The   suggestion   of    the    obvious    remedy,   must  be 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  233 

made  by  some  one,  for  the  Archdeacon  has  evidently 
not  thought  of  it  himself.  It  would  come  particularly 
well  from  you,  occupying  as  you  do  a  leading  position 
in  the  diocese.  Unfortunately  the  time  at  our  disposal  is 
very  short,  and  it  will  hardly  do  to  leave  the  Archdeacon 
without  some  practical  suggestion  for  the  immediate- 
remedying  of  the  sad  defect.  What  you  will  have  to  offer 
him  is  a  scheme  thoroughly  worked  out  and  perfect  in 
every  detail.  The  name  of  Miss  Battersby  will  prob- 
ably occur  to  you  at  once.  I  need  not  remind  you  of 
her  sweet  and  lovable  disposition.  You  have  been  long 
acquainted  with  her,  and  will  recognize  in  her  a  lady 
peculiarly  well  suited  to  share  an  episcopal  throne." 

Thormanby  became  almost  purple  in  the  face  as  I 
read  out  the  final  sentences  of  the  letter.  I  saw  that  he 
was  struggling  with  some  strong  emotion  and  suspected 
that  he  wanted  very  much  to  laugh.  If  he  did  he  sup- 
pressed the  desire  manfully.  His  forehead  was  actually 
furrowed  with  a  frown  when  I  had  finished.  I  laid  the 
letter  down  on  the  table  and  tapped  it  impressively  with 
rny  forefinger. 

"That,"  I  said,  "strikes  me  as  a  remarkably  good 
suggestion." 

Thormanby  exploded. 

"Of  all  the  damned  idiots  I've  ever  met,"  he  said, 
"you're  the  worst.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  expect 
me  to  drag  Miss  Battersby  over  to  the  Archdeacon's 
house  and  dump  her  down  there  in  a  white  satin  dress 
with  a  wedding  ring  tied  round  her  neck  by  a  ribbon  and 
a  stodgy  cake  tucked  under  her  arm?" 

"I  haven't  actually  worked  out  all  the  details,"  I 
said.  "I  am  thinking  more  of  the  plan  in  its  broad  out- 


234  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

lines.  After  all,  the  Archdeacon  isn't  married.  We  can't 
get  over  that.  If  that  text  of  First  Timothy  is  really 
binding  —  I  don't  myself  know  whether  it  is  or  not,  but 
I'm  inclined  to  take  Selby-Harrison's  word  for  it  that  it 
is.  He's  in  the  Divinity  School  and  has  been  making  a 
special  study  of  the  subject.  If  he's  right,  there's  no 
use  our  electing  the  Archdeacon  and  then  having  the 
Local  Government  Board  coming  down  on  us  afterward 
for  appointing  an  unqualified  man.  You  remember  the 
fuss  they  made  when  the  Urban  District  Council  took 
on  a  cookery  instructress  who  hadn't  got  her  diploma." 

"That  wasn't  the  Local  Government  Board.  It  was 
the  Department  of  Agriculture.  But  in  any  case  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  of  them  has  anything  in  the  world 
to  do  with  bishops." 

"Don't  you  be  too  sure  of  that.  I  expect  you'll  find 
they  have  if  you  appoint  a  man  who  isn't  properly  quali- 
fied, and  the  law  on  the  subject  is  perfectly  plain." 

"Rot!  Lots  of  bishops  aren't  married.  Texts  of 
that  sort  never  mean  what  they  seem  to  mean." 

"What's  the  good  of  running  risks,"  I  said,  "when  the 
remedy  is  in  our  own  hands?  I  don't  see  that  the  Arch- 
deacon could  do  better  than  Miss  Battersby.  She's 
wonderfully  sympathetic." 

"You'd  better  go  and  tell  him  so  yourself." 

"I  would,  I'd  go  like  a  shot,  only  most  unluckily  he's 
got  it  into  his  head  that  I've  taken  to  drink.  He  might 
think,  just  at  first,  that  I  wasn't  quite  myself  if  I  went 
to  him  with  a  suggestion  of  that  sort." 

"There'd  be  some  excuse  for  him  if  he  did,"  said 
Thormanby. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  235 

"Whereas,  if  you,  who  have  always  been  strictly  tem- 
perate   " 

"I  didn't  send  for  you,"  said  Thormanby,  "to  stand 
there  talking  like  a  born  fool.  What  I  want  you  to 
do " 

He  paused  and  blew  his  nose  with  some  violence. 

"Yes?"  I  said. 

"Is  to  go  and  put  a  muzzle  on  that  girl  of  Beresford's." 

"If  you're  offering  me  a  choice,"  I  said,  "I'd  a  great 
deal  rather  drag  Miss  Battersby  over  to  the  Archdeacon's 
house  and  dump  her  down  there  in  a  wedding  ring  with 
a  white  satin  dress  tied  round  her  neck  by  a  ribbon.  I 
might  manage  that,  but  I'm  constitutionally  unfitted 
to  deal  with  Lalage.  It  was  you  who  said  you  would 
put  her  in  her  place.  I  told  the  Archdeacon  he  could 
count  on  you." 

"I'll  see  Beresford  to-day,  anyhow." 

"Not  the  least  use.  He's  going  to  one  of  the  South 
American  republics  where  there's  no  extradition." 

"I'll  speak  to  your  mother  about  it." 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  I  said,  "Lalage  is  acting  strictly 
in  accordance  with  my  mother's  instructions  in  referring 
this  matter  to  you.  Why  not  try  Miss  Pettigrew?" 

"I  will.    Who  is  she?" 

"She  used  to  be  Lalage's  schoolmistress." 

"Does  she  use  the  cane?" 

"This,"  I  said,  "is  entirely  your  affair.  I've  washed 
my  hands  of  it  so  I'm  not  even  offering  advice,  but  if 
I  wereryou  I'd  be  careful  about  anything  in  the  way  of 
physical  violence.  Remember  that  Lalage  has  Selby- 
Harrison  behind  her  and  he  knows  the  law.  You  can 


236  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

see  for  yourself  by  the  way  he  ferreted  out  that  text 
of  First  Timothy  that  he  has  the  brain  of  a  first-rate 
solicitor." 

I  left  the  room  after  that.  In  the  hall  Miss  Battersby 
waylaid  me  again. 

"Is  it  all  right?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

"Not  quite.     My  uncle  is  writing  to  Miss  Pettigrew." 

"She  won't  come.  I'm  sure  she  won't.  She  told  me 
herself  when  we  were  in  Ballygore  that  for  the  future  she 
intends  to  watch  Lalage's  performances  from  a  distance." 

"She  may  make  an  exception  in  this  case,"  I  said. 
"If  my  uncle  states  it  at  all  fully  in  his  letter  it  can 
scarcely  fail  to  make  an  appeal  to  her." 

Miss  Battersby  sighed.     She  was  evidently  not  hopeful. 

"Lalage  is  such  a  dear  girl,"  she  said.  "It  is  a  sad 
pity  that  she  will  - 

"She's  always  trying  to  do  right." 

"Always,"  said  Miss  Battersby  fervently. 

"That's  why  it's  generally  so  difficult  for  other  people." 

"The  world,"  said  Miss  Battersby,  "is  very  hard." 

"And  desperately  wicked.  If  it  were  even  moderately 
straightforward  and  honest  Lalage  would  have  been 
canonized  long  ago." 

"She's  a  little  foolish  sometimes." 

"All  great  reformers,"  I  said,  "appear  foolish  to  the 
people  of  their  own  generation.  It's  only  afterward 
that  their  worth  is  recognized." 

Miss  Battersby  sighed  again.  Then  she  shook  hands 
with  me. 

"I  must  go  to  Lord  Thormanby,"  she  said.  f 'He'll 
want  me  to  write  his  letters  for  him.'" 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  237 

"  He  won't  want  you  to  write  that  one  to  Miss  Petti- 
grew.  He  has  his  faults  of  temper,  but  he's  essentially 
a  gentleman,  and  he  wouldn't  dream  of  asking  you  to 
write  that  particular  letter  for  him.  I  don't  think  you 
need  go  to  him  yet.  Stay  and  talk  to  me  about  Lalage 
and  the  hardness  of  the  world." 

"If  he  doesn't  want  me,"  she  said,  "I  ought  to  settle 
the  flowers." 

It  really  is  a  pity  that  Thormanby  will  not  persuade 
the  Archdeacon  to  marry  Miss  Battersby.  Besides 
being  sweet  and  lovable,  as  Lalage  pointed  out,  she  has  a 
strong  sense  of  duty  which  would  be  quite  invaluable  in 
the  diocese.  Very  few  people  after  an  agitating  morning 
would  go  straight  off  to  settle  flowers. 


CHAPTER  XX 

I  LOOKED  at  my  watch  as  I  got  into  my  trap  and 
found  that  it  was  eleven  o'clock,  not  more  than 
two  hours  since  my  uncle's  letter  had  been  handed  to  me 
at  the  breakfast  table.  Yet  I  felt  thoroughly  tired.  No 
one  who  has  only  just  recovered  from  influenza  ought 
to  be  called  upon  to  face  a  crisis.  At  the  best  of  times 
a  crisis  of  any  magnitude  is  too  much  for  me.  When  I 
am  weak  anything  of  the  sort  exhausts  me  rapidly.  It 
is  most  unfair  that  I  should  be  beset  with  crises  as  I  am. 
Other  men,  men  who  like  excitement  and  unexpected 
calls  for  exertion,  are  condemned  to  years  of  unbroken 
monotony.  I,  who  desire  nothing  so  much  as  peace, 
have  tumult  and  turmoil  thrust  upon  me.  I  drove  down 
the  long  avenue  of  Thormanby  Park  and  determined 
to  get  home  as  quickly  as  possible.  There  is  a  greenhouse 
at  the  bottom  of  our  garden  which  at  that  time  was  quite 
unfrequented  because  something  had  gone  wrong  with 
the  heating  apparatus  and  the  more  delicate  plants  had 
been  removed  from  it.  I  intended  to  retire  to  it  as  soon 
as  I  got  home  with  a  hammock  chair  and  a  novel.  I  had 
every  hope  of  being  left  in  peace  for  an  hour  or  so. 

That  was  my  plan.  It  proved,  as  all  my  plans  do, 
unworkable;  but,  as  is  always  the  case,  through  no  fault 
of  my  own.  At  the  gate  lodge  of  Thormanby  Park  I 
met  Lalage.  She  was  riding  a  bicycle  and  jumped  down 

238 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  239 

as  soon  as  she  saw  me.  I  pulled  up  my  pony,  of  course. 
Even  if  Lalage  had  not  jumped  down  I  should  have 
pulled  up  the  pony.  Lalage  is  a  sure  harbinger  of  trouble. 
Crises  attend  her  course  through  life.  Yet  I  cannot  help 
stopping  to  talk  to  her  when  I  get  the  chance.  I  suppose 
I  am  moved  by  some  obscure  instinct  which  makes  me 
wish  to  know  the  worst  in  store  for  me  as  soon  as  possible. 

"I'm  darting  on,"  said  Lalage,  "to  secure  Pussy  Bat- 
tersby,  but  I  stopped  for  a  moment  to  tell  you  to  go 
straight  to  the  rectory. " 

"You  can't  get  Miss  Battersby  now.  She's  settling 
flowers. " 

"I  must.  She's  of  the  utmost  importance.  I  must 
bring  her  back  with  me. " 

"Has  the  Archdeacon  arrived  unexpectedly?" 

"No.  What  on  earth  put  that  into  your  head? 
Good-bye." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Lalage.  Take  my  advice  and  don't 
go  on.  It's  not  safe.  My  uncle  is  threatening  you  with 
all  sorts  of  violence.  You  can  guess  the  sort  of  temper 
he's  in." 

"Gout?" 

"No.    Your  letter." 

"My  letter?  Oh,  yes.  I'd  forgotten  that  letter  for 
the  moment.  You  mean  the  one  I  wrote  to  him  about 
the  Archdeacon's  marriage. " 

"Now  you  know  why  you'd  better  not  go  near  him  for 
a  day  or  two." 

"Silly  old  ass,  isn't  he,  to  lose  his  temper  about  that? 
But  I  can't  stop  to  argue.  I  must  get  Pussy  Battersby 
at  once.  There  isn't  a  moment  to  spare." 


240  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"If  the  Archdeacon  hasn't  turned  up,  what  on  earth 
do  you  want  her  for?" 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Lalage,  "that  Hilda's  mother  is 
at  the  rectory. " 

"I  thought  she'd  arrive  some  day.  You  couldn't 
expect  to  keep  her  at  bay  forever.  The  wonder  is  that 
she  didn't  come  long  ago. " 

"She  travelled  by  the  night  mail  and  was  rather  di- 
shevelled when  she  arrived,  hJif  a  bit  tousled,  a  smut  on 
the  end  of  her  nose  and  a  general  look  of  crinklyness  about 
her  clothes.  Hilda  has  been  in  floods  of  tears  and  sobbing 
like  a  steam  engine  all  morning." 

"I  don't  wonder  at  all.  Any  nice-minded  girl  would. 
It  can't  be  pleasant  for  her  to  see  her  mother  in  such  a 
state. " 

"Don't  drivel,"  said  Lalage.  "Hilda  isn't  crying  for 
that.  She's  not  a  perfect  idiot,  whatever  you  may  say." 

"I  didn't  say  anything  of  the  sort.  I  said  she  was  a 
nice-minded  girl. " 

"Same  thing,"  said  Lalage,  "and  she's  not  either  the 
one  or  the  other." 

"Then  why  is  she  crying?" 

"Because  her  mother  is  taking  her  home.  That's  the 
reason  I'm  going  for  Pussy  Battersby. " 

"She'll  be  a  poor  substitute  for  Hilda, "  I  said.  "She'll 
boggle  at  simony  every  time. " 

"What  are  you  talking  about  now?" 

"Miss  Battersby.  I'm  trying  to  explain  that  she'll 
hardly  be  able  to  take  Hilda's  place  as  the  companion 
of  your  revels." 

"What  I'm  getting  her  for,"  said  Lalage  severely*  "is 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  241 

to  restore  the  confidence  of  Hilda's  mother.  She  doesn't 
trust  me  one  bit,  silly  of  her,  isn't  it?  And  she's  ragged 
poor  father  into  a  condition  of  incoherence." 

"Will  Miss  Battersby  be  any  use?  I  should  hardly 
have  thought  her  the  sort  of  person  who  would  deal 
successfully  with  a  frantic  mother." 

"She's  tremendously  respectable,"  said  Lalage,  "and 
Hilda's  mother  will  have  absolute  confidence  in  her  the 
moment  she  sees  her.  ifcemember  how  she  agreed  to  that 
Portugal  trip  once  she  knew  Pussy  was  to  be  with  us, 
and  she  hadn't  even  seen  her  then.  When  I  trot  her  out 
there'll  be  absolutely  no  further  trouble.  Good-bye, 
I  must  be  darting  on. " 

Lalage  put  her  foot  on  the  pedal  and  balanced  the 
bicycle. 

I  stopped  her  again. 

"You  said  something  about  my  going  to  the  rectory," 
I  said.  "What  am  I  to  do  when  I  get  there?" 

"Attend  to  Hilda's  mother  of  course." 

"Do  you  mean  that  I'm  to  take  a  basin  of  hot  water 
and  a  sponge  and  wash  her  nose?  I  couldn't  possibly. 
I  don't  know  her  nearly  well  enough.  I'd  hardly  venture 
to  do  such  a  thing  to  Hilda  herself. " 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  the  smut  on  her  nose,"  said 
Lalage.  "What  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  keep  her  in  play 
till  I  get  back.  I  sha'n't  be  long,  but  it's  not  possible  to 
start  Pussy  Battersby  off  on  the  first  hop.  She'll  want 
to  titivate  a  little." 

"If  you  think  I'll  be  any  use " 

"  Of  course  you  will.  You're  very  nearly  as  respectable 
to  look  at  as  Pussy  Battersby. " 


242  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"I  shall  hate  to  see  Hilda  crying. " 

"Then  cheer  her  up.     Good-bye  for  the  present." 

This  time  Lalage  really  did  mount  the  bicycle.  I  drove 
on  in  the  direction  of  the  rectory,  turning  over  in  my  mind 
various  plans  for  keeping  Hilda's  mother  in  play.  Some 
of  them  were  very  good  plans  which  I  think  would  have 
been  successful,  but  I  shall  never  be  certain  about  that 
because  I  did  not  have  the  chance  of  putting  them  to  the 
test. 

A  mile  from  the  rectory  gate  I  met  a  car.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  luggage  piled  on  the  well,  and  two  ladies 
sat  together  on  one  side.  I  recognized  Hilda  at  once. 
The  other  lady  I  supposed,  quite  rightly,  to  be  her  mother. 
I  ought,  I  saw  afterward,  to  have  made  some  effort, 
even  at  that  eleventh  hour,  to  keep  her  in  play.  I  do 
not  think  I  could  have  succeeded,  but  it  was  certainly 
my  duty  to  try.  My  nerve  unfortunately  failed  and  I 
simply  drove  past,  raising  my  hat  and  bowing  sorrow- 
fully to  Hilda. 

When  the  car  was  out  of  sight  I  stopped  to  consider 
my  position.  There  was  nothing  to  prevent  my  returning 
home  at  once  and  settling  down,  as  I  had  originally  planned, 
in  the  corner  of  the  deserted  greenhouse.  My  inclination 
was,  of  course,  to  do  this,  but  it  occurred  to  me  that  it 
would  be  a  charitable  and  kindly  action  to  comfort  Canon 
Beresford.  He  had,  so  Lalage  told  me,  been  reduced 
to  a  condition  of  incoherence  by  the  ragging  of  Hilda's 
mother.  He  was  also  likely  to  have  been  a  good  deal 
distressed  by  the  sight  of  Hilda's  tears  and  the  sound  of 
her  sobs.  He  would  probably  be  sorry  to  lose  Hilda. 
In  spite  of  anything  Lalage  might  say  I  still  believed 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  243 

Hilda  to  be  a  nice-minded  girl,  the  sort  of  girl  that  any 
man  would  like  to  have  staying  in  his  house.  For  all 
three  reasons  the  Canon  would  require  sympathy  and 
comfort.  I  drove  on  to  the  rectory. 

There  I  had,  once  more,  to  reconsider  my  position. 
The  Canon  was  comforting  himself.  He  had,  so  the  maid 
informed  me,  gone  out  fishing.  My  first  impulse  was  to 
start  for  home  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  Then  I  remembered 
that  some  one  would  have  to  explain  to  Lalage  and  Miss 
Battersby  that  Hilda  and  her  mother  had  really  gone. 
The  Canon  would  not  be  able  to  do  this  because  he  had 
gone  out  fishing  before  they  left.  The  maid  was  obviously 
a  stupid  girl.  It  seemed  to  be  my  duty  to  wait  for  Lalage 
and  tell  her,  soothingly,  what  had  happened.  I  went 
into  the  Canon's  study  and  made  myself  comfortable 
with  a  pipe. 

At  about  one  o'clock  Lalage  arrived  without  Miss 
Battersby.  She  made  no  comment  at  first  on  the  ab- 
sence of  Hilda's  mother.  Her  mind  had  evidently  been 
turned  away  from  that  subject.  She  flung  herself  into  a 
chair,  and  dragged  furiously  at  the  pins  which  fastened 
on  her  hat.  When  she  had  worked  them  loose  she  threw 
the  hat  itself  on  the  floor. 

"Great  Scott!"  she  said.     "I've  had  a  time  of  it!" 

"I  rather  thought  you  would." 

"Curious,  isn't  it?  For  he  can  be  a  perfect  pet  when 
he  likes.  Glad  I  don't  get  gout. " 

"You  know  perfectly  well  that  it  wasn't  gout  which  was 
the  matter  with  him  this  time." 

"It  can't  have  been  all  my  letter,  can  it?" 

"It  was,  "I  said. 


244  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"Of  course  I  wasn't  going  to  stand  that  sort  of  thing," 
said  Lalage. 

"What  sort  of  thing?" 

"The  way  he  talked,  or,  rather,  tried  to  talk.  I  soon 
stopped  him.  That's  what  makes  me  so  hot.  I  wish 
you'd  seen  poor  Pussy's  face.  I  was  afraid  every 
minute  he'd  mention  her  name  and  then  she  would  have 
died  of  shame.  That's  just  the  kind  of  thing  which  would 
make  Pussy  really  ill. " 

"What  did  you  say  to  him?" 

"I  told  him  that  it  was  his  plain  duty  to  put  the  matter 
before  the  Archdeacon  and  that  if  he  didn't  do  it  I  should 
simply  get  some  one  else  and  then  he'd  jolly  well  feel 
ashamed  of  himself  and  be  afraid  to  look  any  one  in  the 
face  for  weeks  and  weeks.  I  didn't  mention  that  Pussy 
was  the  future  wife,  of  course.  I'm  much  too  fond  of 
her  to  hurt  her  feelings." 

I  should  have  liked  to  hear  a  description  of  the  ex- 
pression on  Miss  Battersby's  face.  I  should  also  have 
liked  to  hear  what  my  uncle  said  in  reply  to  Lalage's 
remarks,  but  I  felt  an  anxiety  so  acute  as  greatly  to  dull 
my  curiosity. 

"Had  you  any  one  particular  in  your  mind,"  I  asked, 
"when  you  said  that  you'd  get  somebody  else  to  go  to 
the  Archdeacon?" 

"Of  course  I  had,"  said  Lalage.     "You." 

"I  was  just  afraid  you  might  be  thinking  of  that." 

"You'll  do  it  of  course." 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  won't.  There  are  reasons  which  I 
gave  to  my  uncle  this  morning  which  made  it  quite 
impossible  for  me " 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  245 

"You're  not  thinking  of  marrying  her  yourself,  are 
you?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Then  there  can't  be  any  real  reason " 

"Lalage,"  I  said,  "there  is.  I  don't  like  to  mention 
the  subject  to  you;  but  the  fact  is " 

"If  it's  anything  disagreeable  I'd  much  rather  not 
hear  it. " 

"It  is,  very;  though  it's  not  true." 

"You  appear  to  me  to  be  getting  into  a  tangle,"  said 
Lalage,  "so  you'd  better  not  go  on.  If  you're  afraid  of 
the  Archdeacon  —  and  I  suppose  that  is  what  your  ex- 
cuses will  come  to  in  the  end  —  I'll  do  it  myself.  After 
all,  you'd  most  likely  have  made  a  mess  of  it." 

I  bore  the  insult  meekly.  I  was  anxious,  if  possible, 
to  persuade  Lalage  to  drop  the  idea  of  marrying  the 
Archdeacon  to  Miss  Battersby. 

"Remember  your  promise  to  my  mother,"  I  said. 

"I've kept  it.  I  submitted  the  matter  to  LordThor- 
manby  just  as  I  said  I  would.  If  he  won't  act  I  can't 
help  it." 

"The  Archdeacon  will  be  frightfully  angry." 

Lalage  sniffed  slightly.  I  could  see  that  the  thought  of 
the  Archdeacon's  wrath  did  not  frighten  her.  I  should 
have  been  surprised  if  it  had.  After  facing  Thormanby 
in  the  morning  the  Archdeacon  would  seem  nothing.  I 
adopted  another  line. 

"Are  you  perfectly  certain,"  I  said,  "about  that  text? 
Don't  you  think  that  if  it's  really  in  the  Bible  the  Arch- 
deacon would  have  seen  it?" 

"He  might  have  overlooked  it,"  said  Lalage;   "in 


246  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

fact,  he  must  have  overlooked  it.  If  he'd  come  across 
it  he'd  have  got  married  at  once.  Anybody  can  see  that 
he  wants  to  be  a  bishop." 

This  seemed  unanswerable.  Yet  I  could  not  believe 
that  the  Archdeacon,  who  has  been  a  clergyman  for  many 
years,  could  have  failed  to  read  the  epistle  in  which 
the  verse  occurs.  I  made  another  effort. 

"Most  likely,"  I  said,  "that  text  means  something 
quite  different." 

"It  can't.     The  words  are  as  plain  as  possible." 

"Have  you  looked  at  the  original  Greek?" 

"No,  I  haven't.  What  would  be  the  good  of  doing 
that?  And,  besides,  I  don't  know  Greek." 

"Then  you  may  be  sure,"  I  said,  "that  the  original 
Greek  alters  the  whole  thing.  I've  noticed  hundreds  of 
times  that  when  a  text  seems  to  be  saying  anything  which 
doesn't  work  out  in  practice  the  original  Greek  sets  it 
right." 

"I  know  that,"  said  Lalage.  "At  least  I've  often 
heard  it.  But  it  doesn't  apply  to  cases  like  this.  What 
on  earth  else  could  this  mean  in  the  original  Greek  or 
any  other  language  you  like  to  translate  it  into?  'A  bishop 
is  to  be  the  husband  of  one  wife.'  I  looked  it  out  myself 
to  make  sure  that  Selby -Harrison  had  made  no  mistake. " 

The  text  certainly  seemed  uncompromising.  I  had 
talked  bravely  about  the  original  Greek,  but  I  doubted 
in  my  own  mind  whether  even  it  would  offer  a  loophole 
of  escape  for  the  Archdeacon. 

"It  may,"  I  said,  desperately,  "merely  mean  that  a 
bishop  mayn't  have  two  wives. " 

"Do  talk  sense,"  said  Lalage.     "What  would  be  the 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  247 

point  of  saying  that  a  bishop  mayn't  have  two?  It's 
hard  enough  to  get  a  man  like  the  Archdeacon  to  have 
one.  Besides,  if  that's  what  it  means,  then  other  people, 
not  bishops,  are  allowed  to  have  two  wives,  which  is 
perfectly  absurd.  It  would  be  bigamy  and  that's  far 
worse  than  what  the  Archdeacon  said  I'd  done.  Where's 
Hilda?" 

Lalage's  way  of  dismissing  a  subject  of  which  she  is 
tired  is  abrupt  but  unmistakable.  I  told  her  that  Hilda 
and  her  mother  had  gone. 

"That's  a  pity,"  said  Lalage.  "I  should  have  liked 
to  take  Hilda  with  me  this  afternoon. " 

"Are  you  going  to  do  it  so  soon?" 

"  The  election  is  next  week, "  said  Lalage, "  so  we  haven't 
a  moment  to  lose." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "if  you're  really  going  to  do  it,  I  shall 
be  greatly  obliged  if  you'll  let  me  know  afterward  exactly 
what  the  Archdeacon  says." 

"I  will  if  you  like,"  said  Lalage,  "but  there  won't  be 
anything  to  tell  you.  He'll  simply  thank  me  for  bring- 
ing the  point  under  his  notice." 

"  I'm  not  a  betting  man,  but  if  I  were  I'd  wager  a  pretty 
large  sum  that  whatever  the  Archdeacon  does  he  won't 
thank  you. " 

"Have  you  any  reason  to  suppose  that  he  has  a  special 
objection  to  Pussy  Battersby?" 

"None  in  the  world.  I'm  sure  he  respects  her.  We 
all  do." 

"Then  I  don't  see  what  you  mean  by  saying  that  he 
won't  thank  me.  He's  a  tiresome  old  thing,  especially 
when  he  tries  to  be  polite,  which  he's  always  doing,  but 


248  LAIAGE'S  LOVERS 

he's  not  by  any  means  a  fool  where  his  own  interests  are 
concerned.  He'll  see  at  once  that  I'm  doing  him  a  kind- 
ness. " 

I  found  nothing  more  to  say,  so  I  left  Lalage.     I  had, 
at  all  events,  done  my  best.     I  drove  home. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WAS  late  for  luncheon,  very  late.  My  mother  had 
left  the  dining-room  when  I  got  home,  but  I  found 
her  and  she  readily  agreed  to  leave  the  letters  she  was 
writing  and  to  sit  beside  me  while  I  ate.  It  was  not,  as 
I  discovered,  sympathy  for  my  exhaustion  and  hunger 
which  induced  her  to  do  this.  She  was  full  of  curiosity. 

"Well,"  she  said,  as  I  helped  myself  to  some  cold  pie, 
"what  was  it?" 

"It  was  Lalage,"  I  said.  "You  guessed  that  before  I 
started." 

There  was  a  short  pause  during  which  I  ate  some  of 
the  cold  pie  and  found  out  that  it  was  made,  partly  at 
least,  of  veal.  Then  my  mother  asked  another  question: 

"Has  she  hit  on  anything  unexpected?" 

"Quite.  She  wants  Thormanby  to  insist  on  the 
Archdeacon  marrying  Miss  Battersby." 

Even  my  mother  was  startled.  She  gave  utterance 
to  an  exlamation.  If  she  had  been  a  man  she  would 
have  sworn.  I  soothed  her. 

"It's  not  really  a  bad  scheme,"!  said,  "when  you  get 
over  the  first  shock.  The  Archdeacon,  it  appears,  is 
bound  to  marry." 

"Why?" 

"Timothy  says  so  or  seems  to  say  so.  Perhaps  he 
didn't  really.  What  is  the  proper,  regularly  received 

249 


250  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

interpretation  of  that  text  which  says  that  a  bishop 
is  to  be  the  husband  of  one  wife?" 

"There  are  several." 

"The  Archdeacon  is  sure  to  know  them,  I  suppose." 

"Oh,  yes.     He's  certain  to  know  them." 

"He'll  want  them  all  this  afternoon.  Lalage  is  going 
to  him  with  that  text  drawn  in  her  hand.  She's  also 
taking  Miss  Battersby,  a  wedding  ring,  a  cake,  and  a 
white  satin  dress.  I'm  speaking  figuratively  of  course." 

"I  hope  so.  But  however  figurative  your  way  of 
putting  it  may  be,  I'm  afraid  that  the  Archdeacon  won't 
be  pleased." 

"So  I  told  Lalage.  But  she's  quite  certain  that  he 
will.  I  should  say  myself  that  he'd  dislike  it  several 
degrees  more  than  he  did  the  simony.  I  often  think  it's 
a  pity  the  Archdeacon  hasn't  any  sense  of  humour." 

"No  sense  of  humour  would  enable  him  to  see  that 
joke." 

"Thormanby,"  I  said,  "has  been  employed  all  morning 
in  writing  letters  and  appealing  telegrams  to  Miss  Petti- 
grew;  but  even  if  she  comes  it  will  be  too  late." 

"I   hope   Miss   Battersby   hasn't   been   told." 

'Not  by  Lalage.  She  felt  that  there  would  be  a 
certain  want  of  delicacy  about  mentioning  the  subject 
to  her  before  the  Archdeacon  had  spoken." 

My   mother   sighed. 

"I'm  very  fond  of  Lalage,"  she  said,  "but  I  sometimes 
wish  she  was " 

"That's  just  what  Miss  Battersby  was  saying  this 
morning.  I  quite  agree  with  you  both  that  life  would 
be  simpler  if  she  was,  but  of  course  she  isn't." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  251 

"What  Lalage  wants  is  some  steadying  influence." 

"Miss  Pettigrew,"  I  said,  "suggested  marriage  and 
babies.  I  don't  think  she  mentioned  the  number  of 
babies,  but  several  would  be  required." 

My  mother  looked  at  me  in  much  the  same  curious 
way  that  Miss  Pettigrew  did  on  the  afternoon  when  she 
and  Canon  Beresford  visited  me  in  Ballygore.  I  felt  the 
same  unpleasant  sense  of  embarrassment.  I  finished 
my  glass  of  claret  hurriedly,  and  without  waiting  for 
coffee,  which  would  probably  have  been  cold,  left  the 
room. 

I  went  about  the  house  and  made  a  collection  of  the 
articles  I  was  likely  to  want  during  the  afternoon.  I 
got  a  hammock  chair  with  a  leg  rest,  four  cushions,  a 
pipe,  a  tin  of  tobacco,  three  boxes  of  matches,  and  a 
novel  called  "Sword  Play."  With  these  in  my  arms  I 
staggered  across  the  garden  and  made  for  the  nook  to 
which  I  had  been  looking  forward  all  day.  A  green- 
house which  is  not  sacrificed  to  flowers  is  a  very  pleasant 
place  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year.  In  Spring,  for  in- 
stance, when  the  sun  is  shining,  I  am  tempted  to  go  out 
of  doors.  But  in  Spring  there  are  cold  winds  which  drive 
me  in  again.  In  a  greenhouse  the  sun  is  available  and 
the  winds  are  excluded.  If  the  heating  apparatus 
is  out  of  order,  as  it  fortunately  was  in  the  case  of  my 
greenhouse,  the  temperature  is  warm  without  stuffiness. 
I  shut  the  door,  pulled  a  tree  fern  in  a  heavy  pot  out  of 
my  way,  and  then  found  out  by  experiment  which  of  the 
angles  of  all  at  which  a  hammock  chair  can  be  set  is 
the  most  comfortable.  Then  I  placed  my  four  cushions 
just  where  I  like  them,  one  under  my  head,  one  to  give 


252  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

support  to  the  small  of  my  back,  one  under  my  knees, 
and  one  beside  my  left  elbow.  I  lit  my  pipe  and  put 
the  three  boxes  of  matches  in  different  places,  so  that 
when  I  lost  one  I  should,  while  searching  for  it,  be  pretty 
sure  of  coming  on  another. 

I  opened  my  novel.  It  was  about  a  gentleman  of 
title  who  in  his  day  was  the  best  swordsman  in  Europe. 
He  loved  a  scornful  lady  with  great  devotion.  I  read  a 
hundred  pages  with  dwindling  attention  and  at  last 
found  that  I  had  failed  to  be  excited  by  the  story  of  a 
prolonged  duel  fought  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice  under 
the  shadow  of  an  ancient  castle  from  the  battlements  of 
which  the  scornful  lady  was  looking  down.  I  was  vexed 
with  myself,  for  I  ought  to  have  enjoyed  the  scene.  I 
turned  back  and  read  the  whole  chapter  through  a  second 
time.  Again  I  somehow  missed  the  emotion  of  it.  My 
mind  kept  wandering  from  the  lunging  figures  on  the 
edge  of  the  cliff  to  a  vision  of  Lalage  in  a  dark  green  dress 
speeding  along  the  road  on  her  bicycle. 

I  laid  down  the  novel  and  set  myself  the  pleasant  task 
of  constructing  imaginary  interviews  between  Lalage 
and  the  Archdeacon.  As  a  rule  I  enjoy  the  meanderings 
of  my  own  imagination,  and  in  this  particular  case  I  had 
provided  it  with  material  to  work  on  much  more  likely 
to  be  entertaining  than  the  gambols  of  the  expert  swords- 
man or  the  scorn  of  the  lady  above  him.  But  my 
imagination  failed  me.  It  pictuied  Lalage  well  enough. 
But  the  Archdeacon,  for  some  reason,  would  not  take 
shape.  I  tried  again  and  again  with  no  better  success. 
The  image  of  the  Archdeacon  got  fainter  and  fainter, 
until  I  could  no  longer  visualize  even  his  apron. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  253 

At  some  time,  perhaps  an  hour  after  I  had  settled 
down,  I  went  to  sleep.  I  cannot  fix,  or  make  any  attempt 
at  fixing,  the  exact  moment  at  which  the  conscious  effort 
of  my  imagination  passed  into  the  unconscious  romance 
building  of  dream.  But  I  know  that  the  Archdeacon 
totally  disappeared,  while  Lalage,  a  pleasantly  stimulat- 
ing personality,  haunted  me.  I  may  have  slept  for  an 
hour,  perhaps  for  an  hour  and  a  half.  Looking  back  on 
the  afternoon,  and  arranging  its  chronology  to  fit  be- 
tween two  fixed  points  of  time,  I  am  certain  that  I  did 
not  sleep  for  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half.  It  was  a 
few  minutes  after  two  o'clock  when  I  sat  down  to  luncheon. 
I  am  sure  of  this,  because  my  mother's  eyes  sought 
the  clock  on  the  chimney  piece  when  we  entered  the 
dining-room  together  and  mine  followed  them.  It  was 
half-past  five  when  I  saw  her  again  in  the  drawing-room. 
I  am  equally  sure  of  this  because  she  kissed  me  three 
times  rather  effusively  and  I  was  obliged  to  look  at 
my  watch  to  hide  my  embarrassment.  Between  two 
o'clock  and  half-past  five  I  lunched,  smoked,  read,  slept, 
and  played  a  part  in  certain  other  events.  This  makes 
it  tolerably  certain  that  I  did  not  sleep  for  more  than 
an  hour  and  a  half. 

I  was  wakened  by  a  most  violent  opening  of  the  green- 
house door  and  a  tempestuous  rustling  of  the  fronds  of 
the  tree  fern  which  I  had  moved.  Then  Lalage  burst 
upon  me.  My  first  impulse  was  to  struggle  out  of  my 
chair  and  offer  it  to  her.  She  made  a  motion  of  excited 
refusal  and  I  sank  back  again.  I  noticed,  while  she  stood 
before  me,  that  her  face  was  unusually  flushed.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  she  was  passing  through  what  Me- 


254  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

Meekin  used  to  describe  as  a  nerve  storm.  I  leaped  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  Archdeacon  had  not  taken  kindly 
to  the  idea  of  a  marriage  with  Miss  Battersby. 

"How  did  it  go  off?"  I  asked. 

"Where's  your  mother?"  said  Lalage. 

"She's  not  here.  You  ought  to  know  better  than  to 
expect  her  to  be  here.  Is  she  the  sort  of  person  who'd 
waste  an  afternoon  in  a  disused  greenhouse?  She's 
probably  doing  something  useful.  Did  you  ask  if  she 
was  covering  pots  of  marmalade?" 

"I've    searched    everywhere." 

"Never  mind.     She's  certain  to  turn  up  for  tea." 

Lalage  stamped  her  foot. 

"I  want  her  at  once,"  she  said.  "I  want  to  talk  to 
her." 

"I'm  a  very  poor  substitute  for  my  mother,  of  course; 
but  if  you  can't  find  her " 

"I've  something  to  tell  her,"  said  Lalage;  "something 
that  I  simply  must  tell  to  somebody." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  listen." 

Lalage  hesitated.  She  was  drumming  with  her 
fingers  on  the  edge  of  an  empty  flower  pot  as  if  she  were 
playing  a  very  rapid  fantasia  on  the  piano.  This  seemed 
to  me  a  further  symptom  of  nerve  storm.  I  encouraged 
her  to  speak,  as  tactfully  as  I  could. 

"Has  Miss  Battersby,"  I  asked,  "rebelled  against 
her  destiny?" 

Lalage's  face  suddenly  puckered  up  in  a  very  curious 
way.  I  should  have  supposed  that  she  was  on  the  verge 
of  tears  if  there  existed  any  record  of  her  ever  having  shed 
tears.  But  no  one,  not  even  her  most  intimate  friend 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  255 

ever  heard  of  her  crying;  so  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  wanted  to  laugh.  I  felt  uneasy,  for  Lalage  usually 
laughs  without  any  preliminary  puckerings  of  her  face. 

"Perhaps,"  I  said,  "you're  thinking  of  the  Archdeacon." 

"I  am,"  said  Lalage. 

She  spoke  with  a  kind  of  gulp  which  in  the  case  of 
Hilda  would  certainly  have  been  a  premonitory  symptom 
of  tears. 

"Did  he  make  himself  particularly  disagreeable?" 

Greatly  to  my  relief  Lalage  laughed.  It  was  an  excited, 
unnatural  laugh;  and  it  was  not  very  far  from  crying. 
Still  it  was  a  laugh. 

"No,"  she  said.  "He  made  himself  particularly  agree- 
able, too  agreeable;  at  least  he  tried  to." 

Then  she  laughed  again  and  this  time  the  laughing 
did  her  good.  She  became  calmer  and  sat  down  on  the 
edge  of  an  iron  water  tank  which  stood  in  the  corner  of 
the  greenhouse.  I  warned  her  of  the  danger  of  falling 
in  backward.  I  also  offered  her  one  of  my  cushions  to 
put  on  the  edge  of  the  tank,  which  looked  to  me  hard. 
She  laughed  in  reply.  My  cigarette  case  was,  very 
fortunately,  in  my  pocket.  I  fished  it  out  and  asked 
her  if  she  would  like  to  smoke.  She  took  a  cigarette 
and  lit  it.  I  could  see  that  it  helped  to  calm  her  still 
further. 

"Go  on  with  your  story,"  I  said. 

"Where   was   I?" 

She  spoke  quite  naturally.  The  laughter  and  the  cig- 
arette, between  them,  had  saved  her  from  the  attack 
which  for  some  time  was  threatening. 

"You   hadn't   actually   begun,"   I   said.     "You   had 


256  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

only  mentioned  that  the  Archdeacon  was,  or  tried  to 
be,  unusually,  even  excessively,  agreeable." 

"He  was  writing  letters  in  his  study,"  said  Lalage, 
"when  I  knocked  at  the  door  and  walked  in  on  him.  I 
apologized  at  once  for  interrupting  him." 

"You  were  quite  right  to  do  that." 

"He  said  he  didn't  mind  a  bit;  in  fact,  liked  it.  Then 
he  looked  like  a  sheep.  You  know  the  sort  of  way  a 
sheep  looks?" 

"Woolly?" 

"Yes,  frightfully,  and  worse.  If  I'd  had  a  single 
grain  of  sense  I  should  have  bolted  at  once.  Anybody 
might  have  known  what  was  coming." 

"I  shouldn't.  In  fact,  even  now  that  I  know  some- 
thing came,  I  can't  guess  what  it  was." 

"Instead  of  bolting  I  brought  out  that  text  of  Selby- 
Harrison's.  He  took  it  like  a  lamb." 

"Woolly  again,  only  a  softer  kind  of  wool." 

"No,"  said  Lalage,  "just  meekly;  though  of  course  he 
went  on  being  woolly." 

"There  are  several  authorized  interpretations  of  that 
text.  My  mother  told  me  so  this  afternoon.  I  suppose 
the  Archdeacon  trotted  them  all  out  one  by  one?" 

"No.  I  told  you  he  took  it  like  a  lamb.  Why  won't 
you  try  to  understand?" 

"Anyhow,"  I  said,  "his  demeanour  was  most  encour- 
aging to  you.  I  suppose  you  suggested  Miss  Battersby 
to  him  at  once?" 

"No,  I  didn't.     I  couldn't." 

Lalage  hesitated  again.  She  was  not  speaking  with  her 
usual  fluency.  I  tried  to  help  her  out. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  257 

"Something  in  the  glare  of  his  eyes  stopped  you,"  I 
said.  "I  have  always  heard  that  the  human  eye  pos- 
sesses remarkable  power." 

"There  was  something  in  his  eye,"  said  Lalage,  "but 
not  that." 

"It   stopped   you   though,   whatever   it   was." 

"No,  it  didn't.  I  wish  it  had.  I  might  have  cleared 
out  at  once  if  it  had." 

"If  it  wasn't  a  glare,  what  was  it?  I  can't  imagine 
a  better  opportunity  for  mentioning  Miss  Battersby." 

"He  didn't  give  me  time." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  he  pushed  you  out  of  the 
room?" 

"No." 

"Did  he  swear?  I  once  heard  of  an  Archdeacon  swear- 
ing under  great  provocation." 

"No." 

"I  can't  guess  any  more,  Lalage.  I  really  can't. 
You'll  have  to  tell  me  what  it  was." 

"He  said  he'd  get  married  with  pleasure." 

"But  not  to  Miss  Battersby.  I'm  beginning  to  see 
now.  Who  is  the  fortunate  lady?" 

"Me,"    said    Lalage. 

"Good  heavens,  Lalage!  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're 
going  to  marry  the  Archdeacon?" 

"You're  as  bad  as  he  was,"  said  Lalage  angrily.  "I 
won't  have  such  horrid  things  said  to  me.  I  don't  see 
why  I  should  be  insulted  by  every  one  I  meet.  I  wish 
I  hadn't  told  you.  I  ought  not  to  have  told  you.  I 
ought  to  have  gone  on  looking  for  your  mother  until 
I  found  her." 


258  IMAGE'S  LOVERS 

1  was  immensely,  unreasonably  relieved.  The  idea 
of  Lalage  marrying  the  Archdeacon  had  been  a  severe 
shock  to  me. 

"The  Archdeacon's  proposal '  I  said.  "By  the 

way,  you  couldn't  possibly  have  been  mistaken  about 
it,  could  you?  He  really  did?" 

Lalage  blushed  hotly. 

"He  did,"  she  said,  "really." 

"That  just  shows,"  I  said,  "what  a  tremendous  im- 
pression you  made  on  him  with  Selby-Harrison's  text." 

"It  wasn't  the  text  at  all.  He  said  it  had  been  the 
dearest  wish  of  his  heart  for  years.  Can  you  imagine 
anything  more  silly?" 

"I  see  now,"  I  said,  "why  he  always  took  such  an 
interest  in  everything  you  did  and  went  out  of  his  way 
to  try  to  keep  you  from  getting  into  mischief.  I  think 
better  of  the  Archdeacon  than  I  ever  did  before." 

"He's  a  horrid  old  beast.'" 

"You  can't  altogether  blame  him,  though." 

"I  can." 

"You  oughtn't  to,  for  you  don't  know " 

"I   do   know." 

"No,  you  don't.     Not  what  I  mean." 

"What  do  you  mean?  I  don't  believe  you  mean 
anything." 

"You  don't  know  the  temptation." 

Lalage  stared  at  me. 

"I've  often  felt  it  myself,"  I  said. 

Lalage  still  stared.  She  was  usually  quick  witted,  but 
on  this  occasion  she  seemed  to  me  to  be  positively  dull. 
I  suppose  that  the  nerve  storm  through  which  she  had 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  259 

passed  had  temporarily  paralyzed  the  gray  matter  of 
her  brain.     I  made  an  effort  to  explain  myself. 

"You  must  surely  realize,"  I  said,  "that  the  Arch- 
deacon isn't  the  only  man  in  the  world  who  would  like  — 
any  man  would  —  in  fact  every  man  must,  unless  he's 
married  already,  and  in  that  case  he's  extremely  sorry 
he  can't.  I  certainly  do." 

Lalage  grew  gradually  more  and  more  crimson  in 
the  face  while  I  spoke.  At  my  last  words  she  started 
violently,  and  for  an  instant  I  thought  she  was  going  to 
fall  into  the  tank. 

"Do  be  careful,"  I  said.  "I  don't  want  to  have  to 
dive  in  after  you  and  drag  you,  in  a  state  of  suspended 
animation,  to  the  shore." 

Lalage  recovered  both  her  balance  and  her  self- 
possession. 

"Don't  you?"  she  said,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 

"No,   I  don't." 

"I  should  have  thought,"  she  said,  "that  any  man 
would.  According  to  you  every  man  must,  unless  he  is 
married  already,  and  then  he'd  be  extremely  sorry  that 
he  couldn't." 

"In  that  sense  of  the  words,"  I  said,  "of  course  I  do. 
Please  fall  in." 

"I  daresay  that  the  words  don't  really  mean  what  they 
seem  to  mean,"  said  Lalage.  "Lots  of  those  words 
don't.  I  must  look  them  out  in  the  original  Greek." 

After  this  our  conversation  became  greatly  confused. 
It  had  been  slightly  confused  before.  The  reference  to 
the  original  Greek  completed  the  process.  It  seems  to 
me,  looking  back  on  it  now,  that  we  sat  there,  Lalage 
on  the  edge  of  the  water  tank,  I  in  my  hammock  chair, 


260  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

and  flung  illusive  phrases  and  half  finished  sentences 
at  each  other,  getting  hot  by  turns,  and  sometimes  both 
together.  At  last  Lalage  left  me,  quite  as  abruptly  as  she 
had  come.  I  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  the  situation. 
There  had  been  nothing  but  conversation  between  us. 
I  always  understood  that  under  certain  circumstances 
there  is  more  than  conversation,  sometimes  a  great  deal 
more.  I  picked  up  "Sword  Play,"  which  lay  on  the 
ground  beside  me.  It  was  the  only  authority  to  hand 
at  the  moment.  I  turned  to  the  last  chapter  and  found 
that  the  fencing  professor  and  the  haughty  lady  had  not 
stopped  short  at  conversation.  When  the  lady  finally 
unbent  she  did  so  in  a  very  thorough  way  and  things 
had  passed  between  her  and  the  gentleman  which  it 
made  me  hotter  than  ever  to  read  about.  I  had  not 
stirred  from  my  chair  nor  Lalage  from  the  edge  of  the 
tank  while  we  talked.  I  was  greatly  perplexed.  It 
was  quite  plain  the  history  of  the  swordsman  and  his 
lady  was  not  the  only  one  which  made  me  sure  of  this 
—  that  my  love-making  had  not  run  the  normal  course. 
In  every  single  record  of  such  doings  which  I  had  ever 
read  a  stage  had  been  reached  at  which  the  feelings  of 
the  performers  had  been  expressed  in  action  rather  than 
in  words.  Lalage  and  I  had  not  got  beyond  words,  there- 
fore I  doubted  whether  I  had  really  been  love-making. 
I  had  certainly  got  no  definite  statement  from  Lalage. 
She  had  not  murmured  anything  in  low,  sweet  tones ;  nor 
had  she  allowed  her  head  to  droop  forward  upon  my 
breast  in  a  manner  eloquent  of  complete  surrender.  I 
was  far  from  blaming  her  for  this  omission.  My 
hammock  chair  was  adjusted  at  such  an  angle  that 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  261 

unless  she  had  actually  stood  on  her  head  I  do  not  see 
how  she  could  have  laid  it  against  my  breast,  and  if  she 
had  done  that  her  attitude  would  have  been  far  from 
eloquent,  besides  being  most  uncomfortable  for  me. 
Still  the  fact  remained  that  I  had  not  got  by  word  or 
attitude  any  clear  indication  from  Lalage  that  my  love- 
making,  supposing  that  I  had  been  love-making,  was 
agreeable  to  her. 

Nor  could  I  flatter  myself  that  Lalage  was  any  better 
off  than  I  was.  I  had  fully  intended  to  make  myself 
quite  clear.  The  Archdeacon's  example  had  nerved  me. 
I  distinctly  remembered  the  sensation  of  determining 
that  this  one  crisis  at  least  should  be  brought  to  a  def- 
inite issue,  but  I  was  not  at  all  sure  that  I  had  succeeded. 
The  gentleman  of  title  whose  exploits  filled  the  three  hun- 
dred pages  of  "Sword  Play"  said:  "I  love  you  and  have 
always  loved  you  more  than  life";  and  though  he  spoke 
in  a  voice  which  was  hoarse  with  passion,  his  meaning 
must  have  been  perfectly  plain.  I  had  not  said,  nor 
could  I  imagine  that  I  ever  should  say,  anything  half  so 
heroic.  Had  I  said  anything  at  all  or  was  Lalage  as 
perplexed  as  I  was?  This  question  troubled  me,  unnec- 
essarily; for,  as  it  turned  out  afterward,  Lalage  was  not 
at  all  perplexed. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IV/TY  MIND  concentrated  on  one  question:  Was  I  to 
consider  myself  as  engaged  to  be  married  to  Lalage? 
The  phrase,  with  its  flavour  of  vulgarity,  set  my  teeth 
on  edge;  but  no  other  way  of  expression  occurred  to  me 
and  I  was  too  deeply  anxious  to  spend  time  in  pursuit 
of  elegancies.  It  was  absurd  that  I  could  not  answer 
my  question.  A  man  ought  to  know  whether  he  has 
or  has  not  committed  himself  to  a  proposal  of  marriage. 
The  Archdeacon,  I  felt  perfectly  certain,  knew  what  he 
had  done.  And  I  ought  to  know  whether  Lalage  had 
accepted  or  rejected  the  proposal.  The  Archdeacon 
can  have  had  few  if  any  doubts  when  Lalage  left  him.  I 
made  up  my  mind  at  last  to  lay  the  case  before  my  mother. 
I  determined  to  repeat  to  her,  as  nearly  as  possible,  ver- 
batim, the  whole  conversation  which  had  taken  place 
in  the  greenhouse.  I  knew  that  I  should  feel  foolish  while 
making  these  confidences.  I  should,  indeed,  appear 
positively  ridiculous  when  I  asked  my  mother  to  settle 
the  question  which  troubled  me.  But  my  mother  is 
extraordinarily  sympathetic  and,  in  any  case,  it  was 
better  to  suffer  as  a  fool  than  to  continue  to  be  the  prey 
of  perplexity.  I  sighed  a  little  when  I  recollected  that 
my  mother  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  ridiculous  and  that 
my  dilemma  was  very  likely  indeed  to  appeal  to  it. 

I  found  my  mother  in  the  drawing-room  with  the  re- 

262 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  263 

mains  of  afternoon  tea  still  spread  on  a  small  table  before 
her.  I  had  just  time  to  notice  that  two  people  had  been 
drinking  tea  and  that  the  second  cup,  balanced  precari- 
ously on  the  arm  of  a  chair,  was  half  full.  Then  my 
mother  crossed  the  room  rapidly  and  kissed  me  three 
times.  She  may  have  done  such  a  thing  before.  I  think 
it  likely  that  she  did  when  I  was  a  baby.  She  certainly 
never  kissed  me  more  than  once  at  a  time  since  I  was  old 
enough  to  remember  what  she  did. 

"I'm  so  delighted,"  she  said,  "so  very  delighted.  I 
can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am. " 

This  remark,  taken  in  connection  with  the  kisses  which 
preceded  it,  could  only  have  one  meaning.  I  realized 
at  once  that  I  actually  was  going  to  marry  Lalage.  I 
was  not  exactly  surprised,  but  the  news  was  so  very 
important  that  I  felt  it  right  to  make  absolutely  certain 
of  its  truth. 

"You're  quite  sure,  I  suppose?"  I  said. 

"Lalage  has  been  here  with  me.  She  has  only  just 
gone. " 

"Then  we  may  regard  it  as  settled." 

"You  silly  boy!  Haven't  you  been  settling  it  for  the 
last  hour?" 

"That's  exactly  what  I  want  to  know.  Have  I? 
I  mean  to  say,  have  we?" 

"Lalage  seems  to  think  you  have." 

"That's  all  right  then.     She'd  be  sure  to  know." 

"How  can  you  talk  like  that  when  you've  arranged 
everything  down  to  the  minutest  details?" 

This  startled  me.  I  felt  it  necessary  to  ask  for  more 
information. 


264  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"Would  you  mind  recapitulating  the  details?  I'm 
a  little  confused  about  them." 

"You're  to  wait  till  the  Archdeacon  is  actually  bishop, " 
said  my  mother,  "and  then  he's  to  marry  you." 

"Is  that  your  plan  or  Lalage's?" 

"  Lalage's,  of  course.     I  suppose  it's  yours  too. " 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  said,  "to  find  that  Lalage  is  so  vindic- 
tive. I  hoped  that  she'd  have  been  more  ready  to 
forgive  and  forget. " 

"I  know  what  you're  thinking  about,  because  Lalage 
told  me.  She  doesn't  mean  to  be  vindictive  in  the  least. 
She  seemed  to  think " 

"Surely  not  that  the  Archdeacon  will  like  it?" 

"Hardly  that;  but  that  under  the  circumstances  his 
feelings  would  be  hurt  if  any  one  else  was  asked  to  perform 
the  ceremony. " 

"After  all,"  I  said,  "there's  still  Miss  Battersby. 
He  can't  complain." 

"She's  to  be  a  bridesmaid.     So  is  Hilda,  of  course. " 

"Selby-Harrison  shall  be  best  man,"  I  said. 

"Oh!"  said  my  mother,  "I  gathered  from  Lalage  that 
you  were  to  ask ' 

"I  know  she  doesn't  want  me  to  get  into  touch  with 
Selby-Harrison.  I've  been  trying  to  make  his  acquaint- 
ance for  years  and  she  keeps  on  concealing  him.  But 
this  time  I'm  determined.  I'll  have  Selby-Harrison  or 
no  one. " 

"I  gathered  from  Lalage  that  she'd  prefer " 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  "I'll  have  two  best  men.  I  don't 
see  why  I  shouldn't.  Who's  the  other?" 

"Lalage  mentioned  a  Mr.  Tithers." 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  265 

"Titherlngton  is  his  name,"  I  said,  "and  if  I  have  him 
I  don't  see  how  I  can  very  well  leave  out  Vittie,  O'Dono- 
ghue,  and  McMeekin.  I  don't  know  how  you  feel  about 
the  matter,  but  I  rather  object  to  being  made  a  public 
show  of  with  five  best  men." 

"I'm  so  delighted  about  it,"  said  my  mother,  "that 
I  don't  mind  if  you  go  on  talking  nonsense  about  it  all 
the  evening.  Lalage  will  be  exactly  the  wife  you  want. 
She'll  shake  you  up  out  of  your  lazy  ways  and  make 
something  of  you  in  the  end. " 

"Has  she  settled  that?" 

"No.  She  and  I  are  to  have  a  long  talk  about  that, 
sometime,  soon." 

I  was  about  to  protest,  when  the  door  opened  and  Miss 
Battersby  staggered  breathlessly  into  the  room.  She 
was  highly  flushed  and  evidently  greatly  excited.  She 
made  straight  for  me.  I  thought  she  was  going  to  kiss 
me.  I  still  think  that  she  meant  to.  I  pushed  my 
mother  forward  and  got  into  a  corner  behind  the  tea 
table.  Miss  Battersby  worked  off  the  worst  of  her 
emotion  on  my  mother.  She  must  have  kissed  her  eigh- 
teen or  twenty  times.  After  that  she  did  not  want  to 
do  more  than  to  shake  hands  with  me. 

"Lalage  has  just  told  me,"  she  said,  "and  I'm  so 
glad.  I  happened  to  be  at  the  rectory  when  she  came 
home.  She  had  been  looking  for  me  in  the  morning, 
and  as  soon  as  I  could  I  went  over  to  her. " 

"Has  she  telegraphed  to  Miss  Pettigrew?"  I  asked. 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Miss  BaJLtersby;  "in  fact, 
I'm  sure  she  hasn't. " 

"Then  I'll  do  it  myself.     I  don't  see  why  Lalage  should 


266  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

be  the  only  one  to  break  the  news.  I'd  send  a  wire  to 
Hilda  too  if  I  knew  her  surname;  but  I've  never  been 
able  to  find  that  out.  I  wish  she'd  marry  Selby-Harrison. 
Then  I'd  know  how  to  address  her  when  I  want  to 
telegraph  or  write  to  her." 

"Won't  you  stay  for  dinner?"  said  my  mother  to  Miss 
Battersby.  "  We  can  send  you  home  afterward. " 

"Oh,  no.  The  car  is  waiting  for  me  at  the  rectory. 
I  told  the  man  to  put  up.  Lord  Thormanby " 

"You  might  break  it  to  him,"  I  said. 

"He'll  be  greatly  delighted,"  said  Miss  Battersby. 

"No,  he  won't,"  I  said.  "At  least  I  shall  be  very 
much  surprised  if  he  is.  He  told  me  this  morning  that 
I  was  to  go  and  muzzle  Lalage." 

"He  didn't  mean  it,"  said  Miss  Battersby. 

"Besides,"  said  my  mother,  "you  will." 

I  reflected  on  this.  My  mother  and  Miss  Pettigrew 
are  intimate  friends.  They  must  have  talked  over  La- 
lage's  future  together  many  times.  I  knew  what  Miss 
Pettigrew's  views  were  and  I  suspect  that  my  mother 
was  in  full  agreement  with  them.  Owing  to  the  emotional 
strain  to  which  I  had  been  subjected  I  may  have  been 
in  a  hypersensitive  condition.  I  seemed  to  detect  in 
my  mother's  confident  prophecy  an  allusion  to  Miss 
Pettigrew's  plans.  Women,  even  women  like  my  mother, 
are  greatly  wanting  in  delicacy.  I  was  so  much  afraid 
of  her  saying  something  more  on  the  subject  that  I 
bade  Miss  Battersby  good-bye,  hurriedly,  and  left  the 
room. 

After  dinner  my  mother  again  took  up  the  subject  of 
my  engagement. 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  267 

"You'll  have  to  go  over  and  see  Canon  Beresford 
early  to-morrow  morning, "  she  said. 

"Of  course.     But  I  know  what  he'll  say  to  me. " 

"I'm  sure  he'll  be  as  pleased  as  I  am,"  said  my  mother. 

"He  won't  say  so." 

My  mother  looked  questioningly  at  me.  I  answered 
her. 

"He'll  quote  that  line  of  Horace,"  I  said,  "about  a 
placens  uxor,  but  it  won't  be  true." 

"What  does  that  mean?" 

"A  placid  wife,"  I  said,  "a  gentle,  quiet,  peaceable 
sort  of  wife,  who  sits  beside  the  fire  and  knits,  purring 
gently.  When  he  has  finished  that  quotation  he'll  blow 
his  nose  and  give  me  the  piece  out  of  Epictetus  about  the 
'price  of  tranquillity.'  He'll  mean  by  that,  that  sorry 
as  he  is  to  lose  Lalage,  the  future  will  hold  some  compen- 
sating joys.  He  won't  be  obliged  to  dart  off  at  a  moment's 
notice  to  Wick,  or  Brazil,  or  Borneo.  The  Canon  is, 
after  all,  a  thoroughly  selfish  man.  He  won't  care  a  bit 
about  something  being  made  of  me  by  Lalage,  and  if  I 
try  to  explain  my  position  to  him  he'll  go  out  fishing 
at  once. " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

r  •  \hLE  fuss  which  preceded  our  wedding  was  very  con- 
^  siderable  indeed.  Presents  abounded.  Even  in  my 
house,  which  is  a  large  one,  they  got  greatly  in  the 
way.  There  was,  for  instance,  a  large  picture  sent  by 
Titherington.  I  do  not  think  he  had  any  malicious 
intention.  He  probably  gave  an  order  to  a  dealer  with- 
out any  details  of  the  kind  of  work  of  art  to  be  supplied. 
It  turned  out  be  a  finely  coloured  photographic  repro- 
duction of  a  picture  which  had  been  very  popular  a  few 
years  before,  called  "The  Ministering  Angel."  It  rep- 
resented a  hospital  nurse  in  the  act  of  exulting  over  her 
patient.  It  reminded  me  so  unpleasantly  of  my  time  in 
Ballygore  that  I  gave  orders  to  have  it  set  up  with  its 
face  to  the  wall  in  a  passage.  There  I  used  to  trip  over 
it  nearly  every  day.  Canon  Beresford's  position  was 
worse  than  mine,  for  his  house  was  smaller  and  Lalage's 
presents  were  both  numerous  and  larger  than  those  sent 
to  me. 

I  also  suffered  great  inconvenience  from  the  paperers 
and  painters  who  came  down  from  Dublin  in  large 
numbers  and  pervaded  my  favourite  rooms.  It  was 
my  mother  who  invited  them.  She  said  that  the  house 
was  in  a  disgraceful  condition.  Lalage  took  the  keenest 
interest  in  these  men  and  their  work.  She  used  to  come 
over  every  morning  and  harangue  them  vehemently. 

268 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  269 

This  was  some  consolation  to  me,  for  the  paperers  and 
painters  certainly  did  not  like  it.  I  used  to  enjoy  hear- 
ing what  they  said  to  each  after  Lalage  had  finished  with 
them.  Before  and  after  she  dealt  with  the  men  she  used 
to  consult  with  my  mother  about  clothes.  Miss  Bat- 
tersby  was  admitted  to  these  council  meetings.  I  never 
was.  Patterns  of  materials  arrived  from  the  most  dis- 
tant shops.  Some  came  direct  to  my  mother.  I  used 
to  see  them  piled  up  behind  the  letters  on  the  breakfast 
table.  Others  came  to  Miss  Battersby,  who  brought 
them  over  in  the  Thormanby's  pony  trap.  Still  more 
were  addressed  to  Lalage  at  the  rectory.  I  used  to  send 
for  these  in  the  morning  and  it  was  while  she  waited 
for  them  that  Lalage  gave  the  paperers  and  painters 
her  opinion  of  their  incompetence. 

It  seemed  to  me  quite  impossible  that  any  one,  during 
those  frenzied  six  weeks,  could  have  thought  calmly  on 
any  serious  subject.  But  Lalage  is  a  very  wonderful 
young  woman  and  my  mother  is  able  to  retain  her  self- 
possession  under  the  most  trying  circumstances.  They 
managed  somehow  to  snatch  an  hour  or  two  for  that 
long  talk  about  my  future  of  which  my  mother  had 
spoken  to  me.  I  do  not  know  whether  Miss  Battersby's 
advice  was  asked.  Mine  certainly  was  not.  Nor  was 
I  told  at  the  time  the  result  of  the  deliberations.  That 
leaked  out  long  afterward,  when  the  wedding  was  over 
and  we  had  returned  home  to  settle  down,  I  scarcely 
hoped,  in  peace.  I  suspected,  of  course,  that  I  should 
be  made  to  do  something,  and  I  was  agreeably  surprised 
that  no  form  of  labour  was  directly  imposed  on  me  for 
some  time.  Lalage,  acting  no  doubt  on  my  mother's 


270  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

advice,  decided  to  shepherd  rather  than  goad  me  along 
the  way  on  which  it  was  decided  that  I  should  go. 

She  began  by  saying  in  a  casual  way,  one  night  after 
dinner,  that  she  did  not  think  I  had  any  real  taste  for 
political  life.  I  agreed  with  her  heartily.  Then  she 
and  my  mother  smiled  at  each  other  in  a  way  which  made 
me  certain  that  they  had  some  other  career  for  me  in 
mind.  Shortly  afterward  they  took  to  talking  a  great 
deal  about  books,  especially  at  meal  times,  and  several 
literary  papers  appeared  regularly  on  my  study  table. 
I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  wished  me  to  become 
a  patron  of  literature,  perhaps  to  collect  a  library  or  to 
invite  poets  to  spend  their  holidays  with  us.  I  was 
quite  willing  to  fall  in  with  this  plan,  but  I  determined, 
privately,  only  to  become  acquainted  with  poets  of  a 
peaceable  kind  who  wrote  pastorals  or  elegies  and  went 
out  for  long,  solitary  walks  to  commune  with  nature. 
In  my  eagerness  to  please  Lalage  I  went  so  far  as  to 
write  to  Selby-Harrison,  asking  him  to  make  out  for  me 
a  list  of  the  leading  poets  of  the  meditative  and  mystical 
schools.  I  also  gave  an  order  to  a  bookseller  for  all  the 
books  of  original  poetry  published  during  that  autumn. 
The  number  of  volumes  I  received  surprised  me.  I  used 
to  exhibit  them  with  great  pride  to  my  mother  and 
Lalage.  I  once  offered  to  read  out  extracts  from  them 
in  the  evening. 

"The  bent  of  your  genius,"  said  Lalage,  "is  evidently 
literary." 

My  mother  backed  her  up  of  course. 

"It  is,"  I  said,  "and  always  was.  It's  a  great  pity 
that  it  wasn't  found  out  sooner.  Think  of  the  time  I 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  271 

wasted  in  Portugal  and  of  that  wretched  episode  in  East 
Connor.  However,  there's  no  use  going  back  on  past 
mistakes.'* 

"They  weren't  altogether  mistakes,"  said  Lalage. 
"We  couldn't  have  known  that  you  were  literary  until 
we  found  out  that  you  weren't  any  good  at  anything 
else." 

"That  view  of  literature,"  I  said,  "as  the  last  refuge 
of  the  incompetent,  is  quite  unworthy  of  you,  Lalage. 
Recollect  that  you  once  edited  a  magazine  yourself. 
You  should  have  more  respect  for  the  profession  of 
letters." 

"Don't  argue,"  said  Lalage.  "All  we  say  is  that  if 
you  can't  do  anything  else  you  must  be  able  to  write." 

Then  the  truth  began  to  become  clear  to  me.  My 
dream  of  a  life  of  cultured  ease,  spent,  with  intervals 
for  recreation,  in  the  society  of  gentle  poets,  faded. 

"Do  you  mean,"  I  said,  "that  I'm  to ?" 

"Certainly,"    said   Lalage. 

"To  write  a  book?"  I  said  desperately. 

"That's  the  reason,"  said  Lalage,  "why  I  refurnished 
your  study  and  bought  that  perfectly  sweet  Dutch  mar- 
quetry bureau  and  hung  up  the  picture  of  Milton  dictat- 
ing 'Paradise  Lost'  to  his  two  daughters." 

I  have  hated  that  picture  since  the  day  it  first  appeared 
in  my  study.  I  only  agreed  to  letting  it  in  because  I 
knew  the  alternative  was  Titherington's  hospital  nurse. 
The  Dutch  bureau,  if  it  is  Dutch,  is  most  uncomfortable 
to  write  at.  There  was  no  use,  however,  wrangling  about 
details.  I  brought  forward  the  one  strong  objection  to 
the  plan  which  occurred  to  me  at  the  moment. 


272  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

"Has  my  uncle  been  consulted?"  I  asked.  "From 
what  I  know  of  Thormanby  I  should  say  he's  not  at  all 
likely  to  agree  to  my  spending  my  life  in  writing  poetry." 

"His  idea,"  said  my  mother,  "is  that  you  should 
bring  out  a  comprehensive  work  on  the  economic  con- 
dition of  Ireland  in  the  twentieth  century."  { 

"He  thinks,"  Lalage  added,  "that  when  you  do  go 
into  Parliament  it  will  be  a  great  advantage  to  you  to 
be  a  recognized  authority  on  something,  even  if  it's  only 
Irish  economics." 

I  knew,  of  course,  that  I  should  have  to  give  in  to  a 
certain  extent  in  the  end;  but  I  was  not  prepared  to  fall 
hi  with  Thormanby's  absurd  suggestion. 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  "I  shall  write  a  book.  I  shall 
write  my  reminiscences." 

"Reminiscences,"  said  Lalage,  "are  rather  rot  as  a 
rule." 

"The  bent  of  my  genius,"  I  said,  "is  entirely  remin- 
iscent." 

Rather  to  my  surprise  Lalage  accepted  the  remin- 
iscences as  a  tolerable  substitute  for  the  economic  trea- 
tise. I  suppose  she  did  not  really  care  what  I  wrote  so 
long  as  I  wrote  something. 

"Very  well,"  she  said.     "We'll  give  you  six  months." 

I  had,  I  am  bound  to  say,  a  very  pleasant  and  undis- 
turbed life  during  the  six  months  allowed  me  by  Lalage. 
I  did  my  writing,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  morning,  work- 
ing at  the  Dutch  marquetry  bureau  from  ten  o'clock 
until  shortly  after  noon.  I  soon  came  to  find  a  great  deal 
of  pleasure  in  my  work.  The  only  thing  which  ever  put 
me  out  of  temper  was  the  picture  of  Milton  dictating 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  273 

to  two  plump  young  women  who  had  taken  off  their 
bodices  in  order  to  write  with  more  freedom.  If  there 
are  any  peevish  or  ill-humoured  passages  in  my  book  they 
are  to  be  attributed  entirely  to  the  influence  of  that  pic- 
ture, chiefly  to  the  tousled  look  of  the  younger  daughter. 
The  fact  that  her  father  was  blind  was  no  excuse  for  her 
neglecting  to  do  her  hair  when  she  got  up  in  the  morning. 

I  have  secured,  by  the  help  of  Selby-Harrison,  a 
publisher  for  the  book.  He  insists  on  bringing  it  out  as 
a  novel  and  refuses  to  allow  it  to  be  called  "Memories 
of  My  Early  Life,"  the  title  I  chose.  "Lalage's  Lovers," 
the  name  under  which  it  appears  in  his  list  of  forthcoming 
fiction,  seems  to  me  misleading.  It  suggests  a  senti- 
mental narrative  and  will,  I  fear,  give  rise  to  some  dis- 
appointment. However,  I  suppose  that  the  book  may 
sell  better  if  we  pretend  that  it  is  not  true.  But  in 
Ireland,  at  least,  this  device  will  be  vain.  The  things 
with  which  I  deal  were  not  done  in  a  corner.  There 
are  many  bishops  who  still  smart  from  Lalage's  attack 
on  them,  and  Titherington,  at  all  events,  is  not  likely  to 
forget  last  year's  epidemic  of  influenza.  I  shall,  indeed, 
be  very  glad  if  the  publisher's  ruse  succeeds  and  the 
public  generally  believes  that  I  have  invented  the  whole 
story.  Now  that  the  moment  of  publication  comes 
near  and  I  am  engaged  in  adding  a  few  final  sentences 
to  the  last  chapter  I  am  beginning  to  feel  nervous  and 
uncomfortable.  There  may  be  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
and  annoyance  when  the  book  comes  out. 

I  have  set  down  nothing  except  the  truth  and  this 
ought  to  please  Lalage;  but  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  it 
will.  I  have  noticed  that  of  late  she  has  shown  signs  of 


274  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

disliking  any  mention  of  the  Anti-Tommy-Rot  Gazette 
or  the  campaign  of  the  Association  for  the  Suppression 
of  Public  Lying  in  East  Connor.  She  pulled  me  up  very 
abruptly  yesterday  when  I  asked  her  what  Hilda's 
surname  really  is.  I  wanted  it  in  order  to  make  my  book 
as  complete  as  possible.  Lalage  seemed  to  think  that  I 
intended  to  annoy  her  by  talking  over  past  events. 

"I  wish,"  she  said,  "that  you  wouldn't  always  try  to 
make  yourself  out  a  fool.  You've  known  Hilda  intimately 
since  she  was  quite  a  girl." 

That,  of  course,  was  my  difficulty  all  along.  I  have 
known  Hilda  too  intimately.  If  our  friendship  had 
been  more  formal  or  had  begun  more  formally,  I  should, 
at  first  at  all  events,  have  called  her  "Miss"  something 
instead  of  simply  "Hilda."  Then  I  should  not  be  in  my 
present  awkward  position. 

I  am  also  doubtful  about  Thormanby's  reception  of 
the  book.  He  ought  to  be  pleased,  for  he  appears  in 
my  pages  as  a  bluff,  straightforward  nobleman,  devoted 
to  the  public  good  and  full  of  sound  common-sense  though 
slightly  choleric.  This  is  exactly  what  he  is;  but  I  have 
noticed  that  people  are  not  always  pleased  with  faithful 
portraits  of  themselves. 

The  case  of  the  Archdeacon,  now  bishop,  is  more  serious. 
He  has  not  yet  married  Miss  Battersby,  although  Lalage 
has  done  her  best  to  throw  them  together  and  the  advan- 
tages of  the  match  become  every  day  more  obvious.  It 
is  just  possible  that  the  publication  of  my  reminiscences 
may  create  an  awkwardness  —  a  constraint  of  manner 
on  the  part  of  the  bishop,  a  modest  shrinking  in  Miss 
Battersby,  which  will  tend  to  put  off  the  final  settlement 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS  275 

of  the  affair.  I  ventured  to  hint  to  Lalage  that  it  might 
be  well  to  bring  the  business  to  a  head,  if  possible,  before 
my  book  is  published.  Lalage  expressed  considerable 
surprise. 

"What  on  earth  has  your  book  got  to  do  with  their 
marriage?"  she  said. 

I  saw  no  good  in  anticipating  what  is  likely  to  be  an 
evil  day  by  offering  a  premature  explanation. 

"Nothing,"  I  said,  "nothing  at  all." 

"Then  why  do  you  want  to  have  them  married  before 
the  book  comes  out?" 

"  I  don't,"  I  said.  "  I  merely  want  them  to  be  engaged. 
My  idea  is  to  give  them  the  book  as  a  wedding  present, 
nicely  bound  in  calf  of  course." 

"Poor  Pussy,"  said  Lalage;  "I  intend  to  give  her 
something  better  than  that." 

Lalage  has  not  read  my  book.  It  was  a  bargain  from 
the  very  first  that  neither  she  nor  my  mother  should  ask 
to  see  the  manuscript.  She  cannot  know,  therefore, 
whether  it  will  be  better  or  worse  than  the  silver  teapot 
which  I  expect  she  has  in  mind  for  Miss  Battersby's 
wedding  present. 

Another  thing  which  troubles  me  is  the  future  of 
Selby-Harrison.  It  has  been  arranged,  chiefly  by  Lalage, 
that  the  bishop,  who  used  to  be  Archdeacon,  is  to  ordain 
Selby-Harrison  as  curate  assistant  to  Canon  Beresford. 
There  are  incidents  in  the  career  of  Selby-Harrison  of 
which  no  bishop  can  be  expected  to  approve.  His 
part  in  Lai  age's  various  crusades  has  not  hitherto  been 
forced  upon  the  attention  of  the  public.  My  book  will, 
I  fear,  make  it  plain  that  he  was  an  active  power  in  the 


276  LALAGE'S  LOVERS 

various  reforming  societies  which  caused  so  much  annoy- 
ance to  many  people.  If  I  could,  I  would  leave  Selby- 
Harrison  out  of  the  book  altogether,  but  to  do  so  would 
render  unintelligible  the  whole  sequence  of  events  which 
resulted  from  the  discovery  of  that  text  in  First  Timothy. 
Besides,  it  would  scarcely  be  fair  to  deprive  the  young 
man  of  the  credit  he  certainly  deserves  for  the  masterly 
way  in  which  he  drew  up  the  agreements  which  Tither- 
ington  and  I  signed. 

All  this  causes  me  to  hesitate,  even  now  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  about  publishing  the  book  at  all.  One  considera- 
tion, however,  decides  me  to  go  on  and  face  the  conse- 
quences, whatever  they  may  be.  This  is  not  the  kind 
of  book  which  will  encourage  Thormanby  to  drive  me 
into  Parliament.  That  plan,  at  all  events,  will  be 
dropped  when  my  reminiscences  appear. 


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